I Know The Pieces Fit
by RedElaineM
Summary: Drifting apart is easy; communication is hard. Breaks are tough; mending is sweet. Klaine, future!fic, serendipity.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** I Know The Pieces Fit  
><strong>Rating (overall):<strong> PG-13 thus far  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> So far, up until Original Song.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Serendipity  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>4839  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Future!Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Flangst, touch of Crack. Title taken from the song Schism by Tool.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Drifting apart is easy; communication is hard. Breaks are tough; mending is sweet.

_I know the pieces fit cause I watched them fall away  
>Mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing,<br>Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion  
>Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication<br>The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so  
>We cannot see to reach an end crippling our communication. <em>

"If you ever, and I mean _ever_ wish me 'good luck' before an audition again, I _will_ fire you."

Kurt clutched his cell phone as his manager made a particularly obnoxious whine of apology. Kurt rolled his eyes, tapped the end call button, and sighed.

Honestly. There's a reason why the saying is 'Break a leg' instead of 'Good Luck.'

It's a superstitious reason, sure, but there's a reason for the paranoia. At least, Kurt's wrist was currently a firm believer – oh, he hoped it wasn't broken.

He also hoped, bitterly, that the clumsy woman who had executed her high kicking dance move directly at his wrist was no longer in the running for that particular part.

With a kick like that, she'd be more suitably qualified for the NFL. If she could get past the whole gender obstacle, anyway. Kurt should have known to stay farther away when she had bragged about being a 'champion kick-boxer looking for a change.'

But no, fate was laughing at him. He'd been out of school for years, had landed a handful of minor roles on Broadway, but was ready to take on a lead. He had been confident and determined to get this part.

Then some overzealous macho woman had to go and . . .

Ugh. Damn, his wrist hurt.

Maybe if he wasn't in quite so much pain he'd be able to keep his internal bitching under control.

Maybe if he could actually land a big role, he could find a better manager – one that didn't wish wrist-injuring-good-luck on his clients.

Maybe if the ER waiting time hadn't been so long, he'd not be so irritated over every little thing – like the saccharine sweet smile from nurse that finally led him to the tiny curtained cubicle for his examination.

Kurt hated hospitals. There was no end to the dislike he had for them. Facilities like hospitals offended every one of his senses – they smelt like antiseptic, they were visually depressing, the food was horrendous, the beeps and alarms were irritating and frightening, and the amount of hand sanitizer dispensers truly made him wish he didn't need to touch anything.

He especially didn't want to touch the garish johnny the overly chipper young nurse had set out for him – much less wear the hideous thing. Kurt failed to see why he had to wear the damn thing anyway. Why he had to dress down to that level when all he needed was an x-ray was beyond him.

If he was being honest with himself though, unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt was quite the relief for his aching wrist. Undoing the button on the uninjured hand with his injured one wasn't the most pleasant of experiences, however.

Getting changed was never a quick process with him, but this bordered on ridiculous.

Today's price of fashion was annoyance. He had to shoo away the nurse when his pride refused her assistance, and had barely finished by the time she came by again to see if he was ready.

She asked him the standard questions: Where does it hurt? When and how did this happen? Have you taken any medication? Are you allergic to anything?

Kurt informed her that he'd taken some extra strength Tylenol and that it still hurt like hell, and could she please get him a doctor already, because he seriously was getting impatient with the hospital and had a right mind to compose a scathing review.

The nurse's eyes widened the slightest bit at Kurt's full force bitch face, and bit her lip nervously.

"Sir, our doctors are just about to change shifts so the wait is a little longer. . ." she began. Kurt cocked an eyebrow. The nurse sighed. "I'll see what I can do." She handed him an ice pack, which Kurt took gratefully, and left.

Amazingly enough, around five minutes later, a doctor came in and told Kurt what Kurt had already guessed. He needed an x-ray.

Surprise!

Kurt rolled his eyes the second the doctor closed the curtain and resigned himself to the wait until he'd be transported for the scan.

The problem with having this much alone quiet time is that it gave him a bit too much time to think.

And to listen.

On either side of him were other patients. To his left was what sounded like a young girl with similar circumstances to himself. She'd broken something. Kurt couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, however, that the little girl had her father beside her – his voice making soothing statements while the girl whimpered through her discomfort.

To his right, a woman was breathing in exaggerated rhythm while a young man held her hand and whispered encouragement into her ear. "It's going to be alright." he said. "You're beautiful" he proclaimed. "I bet she's going to have your eyes."

Kurt thunked his head back onto his sorry-excuse-for-a-pillow. The patient on the left made him think of and miss his dad. It'd been a while since he'd last called, and the distance between New York and Ohio was just too much at times like these.

The patient on his right however, brought his mind to a place that he tried to shove back the instant it crept up.

Young love made him queasy.

Here Kurt was, 32 and jaded, knowing full well that love does not conquer all, that not all dreams come true, listening to some guy coo in this pregnant girl's ear, looking forward to their beautiful future.

Alright, so Kurt was a bit crazy jealous.

It kind of sucked seeing people happy and in love when the one Kurt told he'd never say goodbye to . . .

Well, Kurt said goodbye to him years and years ago.

High school, for all its ups and downs had been mostly ups those two short years that Blaine had been a part of his life. They were the atypical couple, rarely having blow up fights and carrying on like they'd be together forever.

Except that Kurt had the need to follow his dreams of the stage and the spotlight, and Blaine had been accepted to Ivy freaking League Brown University.

They'd decided it would be easier to be friends than to manage a long distance relationship, and though difficult the idea of going backwards was – it worked for a while. They kept in touch at first with phone calls every day, then with e-mails once a week.

Then finals their first year happened, and they went an entire month without contacting each other.

Things went downhill from there.

Breaks between contact got longer and longer; they each had their little flings and relationships with other people. The knowledge of this made it uncomfortable to talk to one another – friendship is hard to maintain when jealousy gets in the way, after all.

Six years ago their communication stopped all together. Neither Kurt nor Blaine were willing to initiate it.

Blaine had told Kurt in the last call that he was thinking of asking his current boyfriend to marry him.

Kurt's heart shattered.

* * *

><p>In that span of six years, there was only one other instance of Hurricane Blaine in Kurt Hummel's life.<p>

Six months ago, Kurt's past came back through an chance encounter with Wes at Penn Station. Wes had been in the city interviewing for jobs when Kurt spotted him standing at a ticket kiosk looking like he wished he still had his gavel in order to smash the machine.

Kurt asked him where he was heading in a sly, amused tone, and Wes spun around with a comical look of surprise plastered on his face. Smiling, Wes extended his hand.

"Warbler Kurt. How have you been?" Kurt chuckled, and shook the hand offered.

"I've made a small dent into Broadway – only a matter of time until I take it by storm." Kurt paused and made a flipping motion with his hand. "You've got your credit card the wrong way around, Wes." Wes looked at his card and sighed.

"So I do." Swiping it through, the kiosk spat out his tickets, and Kurt couldn't help notice the destination.

"Providence?" He smirked. "What's in Providence?"

Confusion and surprise flickered across Wes' features for an instant and then was gone.

"Helping a friend move into my apartment here. He just landed a great job, but they want him to start immediately and I just got laid off, so a roommate helps where the unemployment check's lacking. Win Win situation." Wes paused as his phone rang, and his face paled slightly when he looked at the screen. Scoffing slightly and smirking, he muttered an 'excuse me' before answering the call.

"You're interrupting a serendipitous reunion. This had better be important."

Kurt's mutter of "Pretentious bastard." was echoed in loud exclamation by the caller, and Kurt's jaw dropped when he heard the voice coming through the line. Wes had his phone volume set to what was undoubtedly the device's highest setting – Blaine's voice recognizable clear as day from wherever he was calling from.

Providence. Brown University is in Providence. That fact clicking, Kurt's eyes widened. Hearing Blaine's voice after all these years was a sucker punch, and Kurt backed up a few small steps with a nearly audibly gulp.

Wes glanced at Kurt in concern, and Kurt heard Blaine ask who Wes had run into.

Kurt mouthed the word 'no' and Wes raised an eyebrow and sighed.

"A dear old friend who wishes to remain anonymous." Wes told Blaine, and Kurt glared. There was no way that Blaine was going to just let that go. Sure enough, laughter and an "Aw, come on." came from the handset. Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, closed his eyes, and breathed out through his nose. That laughter – he hadn't heard it in so long, his heart swooped into his throat and his mouth went dry.

Well, shit.

Some things never change. Some feelings never change.

Kurt would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that there was one word screaming through all the jumbled thoughts scrambling through his head.

_Courage._

"Damn it." was what Kurt said, and he reached out his hand in a request for the phone in Wes'.

Wes was a little too enthusiastic to oblige.

"C'mon, man just tell me who it is." Blaine said. "It can't be that bad!"

"This is Marley's Ghost." Kurt said with false confidence. "You've studied too hard. It paid off. Congratulations."

Blaine gave a sharp, shaking gasp, followed by the squeak of his voice as it choked off in his throat.

"Kur-" Kurt ended the call.

Handing the phone back to Wes, Kurt couldn't help but ask - "So, did he ever get married?"

Wes snorted in surprised laughter, then shook his head in negative.

"Kurt, I'm surprised he found time to sleep in-between his job and studying for his specialty. His last boyfriend dumped him because of it."

"Good to know."

* * *

><p>Kurt was startled out of his thoughts by a different nurse than before clearing her throat and looking down at him over the bridge of rectangular reading glasses. She made quick time of explaining that she was to bring him down to radiology to get his wrist x-ray'd, then did so. The procedure was quick, and then he was on his way back to his little curtained cubicle in the ER.<p>

"A doctor will be with you as soon as possible." The nurse said in a clipped tone. "We're having a busy night, so it may be a bit of a wait. We appreciate your patience."

Kurt blinked. Compared to his last nurse, this woman was simply robotic.

Kurt honestly liked her better.

"If I may." He began. The nurse paused. "I've been in here for well over four hours, and I'm fairly sure the Tylenol I took beforehand has worn off."

She nodded. "There was a note left from last shift regarding pain meds for you. I'll take a look at your chart and see what I can do."

Not ten minutes later, the RN was back in the room with a pill and a glass of water. Kurt definitely liked this nurse better. She was straight to the point and efficient.

"Thank you so much. This hurts more than watching Christina Aguilera forget the lyrics to the national anthem."

The nurse smirked.

"If you think that's bad, you should see Dr. Anderson mangling Katy Perry lyrics." She chuckled and missed the wide eyed fish out of water look on her patient's face.

"He'll be with you shortly." She laughed again. "Shortly . . ."

Mistaking Kurt's blank shocked look as not getting what she thought was an excellent joke, she continued.

"I laugh because the guy looks like something straight out of Lord of The Rings. The short people. With the curly hair."

Kurt nodded dumbly and the nurse wiped her face back into her former stern expression before closing the curtain behind her.

Kurt's bad hand was aching, and his good one was shaking.

No way.

It couldn't be.

"Dr. Anderson! Cheering up the patients is great, but _please, _get off the counter! You're making the paperwork fly everywhere!"

Fuck.

* * *

><p>"What in the world were you thinking?"<p>

Blaine had the decency to look sheepish, hand behind his head and looking downwards, hiding an uncomfortable smirk.

"I just had a to tell a ten year old that he'd lost his parents in the accident he was in this morning." Blaine sighed. "The kid asked me what I would do if I had a 'very, very, sad day' and I told him that I'd dance around and jump on things 'til I was too tired to think about anything else. He didn't believe me, so I showed him."

"It's still inappropriate behav-"

"That kid's life just blew up in his face. I made him smile. If that's not treatment, I don't know what is."

The supervisor's mouth clamped shut before she sighed.

"I understand. You're getting off with a warning this time." Blaine sighed in relief and reached for the doorknob. "But Blaine," She began and he paused. "Save that kind of therapy for the psychologists next time, okay?" Blaine smiled and nodded.

As soon as he stepped back out on the ward, his favorite bi-polar RN, Diane, shoved a folder into his hand. He grinned.

"Nice to see you too." Diane rolled her eyes.

"Patient in room 7, possible fracture, pain in my ass. Hoity-toity little bugger who apparently doesn't appreciate my sense of humor. Told him you look like one of those hobbits and it looked like someone slapped him and told him the sky was falling." Blaine chuckled.

"Thanks, Di." Shaking his head he went to open the file. She was loony, that one.

Absolutely nuts.

Except when she wasn't.

Blaine nearly dropped the file when he read the name attached to it.

_Hummel, Kurt_.

Immediately his heart sped up, fear lancing through him. Fuck. Fracture. She said fracture. Where? Not his skull. Oh thank god, it's just his wrist. Wrists are easy. He's going to hate wearing a cast. They're horrible on the skin. He had such nice skin. Probably still does.

Wait, I need to actually check this x-ray. Oh yeah, definitely fractured his radius.

Shit, I'm the one who has to tell him?

Awkward.

* * *

><p>Kurt was positive he'd never been more uncomfortable in his life. It had to be a mistake, life didn't work out this way. It couldn't be the same Anderson.<p>

Oh, but it could. Blaine had been going to Brown for medical, had ample time to have a doctorate by now – hell the guy had been in school for 14 years. Wes had said something about a specialty, hadn't he? Plus the fact that Blaine moved in with Wes a few months ago. . .

It all added up. And as Kurt looked up at the curtain to see what was definitely a guy's hand gripping it, Kurt held his breath.

The doctor, however, was not cooperating with Kurt's nerves, and Kurt was forced to exhale.

After another minute of the hand being on the curtain, and only mumbled voices coming from outside, Kurt had finally had enough. His nerves were shot as they were. Best to just jump right in.

"Doctor, I'd like to go home sometime today, if you'd be so kind."

The hand on the curtain clenched, and then the curtain was opened.

Apparently two plus two does indeed equal four.

Kurt paled as his heart sped up and then dropped.

Unless Blaine Anderson had a twin, then this was definitely him – fourteen years older than Kurt had last seen him.

The same honey hazel eyes – now with faint wrinkles where they used to crinkle when he smiled.

The same face that still occasionally featured itself in some of Kurt's best dreams and worst nightmares.

The same – ugh, that _hair._

"Way too much product. Really, Blaine?"

Apparently Blaine's eyes _still_ crinkled when he smiled. Blaine was positively beaming, shaking his head with mirth.

"Good to see you too, Kurt." pulling a wheeled stool beside the bed, Blaine sat down and sighed. "This is not the way I would have liked to run into you again."

"Trust me, this is the last place I want to be right now."Kurt frowned, watching Blaine worriedly wringing his hands.

Shit. The pause in between small talk was getting a bit long, and Kurt was honestly not sure where to look while he waited for Blaine to spit out whatever he was going to say. He didn't want to stare, but he couldn't help but look. This was awkward.

"I'd expected a MD on your tag there." Kurt said conversationally, pointing at the badge clipped onto Blaine's pocket and Blaine nodded.

"I have that one too, but my specialty overrides it."

"Enlighten me. Besides that brief conversation on Wes' phone the last I talked to you . . ."

"It would have been a longer conversation if you hadn't hung up on me, Kurt."

"Right, well, strictly doctor-patient speaking, I'd really like to know . . ."

"Orthopedic Surgeon."Blaine said flatly and Kurt's eyes widened, his mouth forming an 'o' of shock.

"Oh my god." Kurt said, panicked. "Blaine, is my wrist _that _bad?"

Blaine stood from his chair abruptly, gently placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder in an automatic gesture of comfort before awkwardly pulling it away.

"No!" Blaine took a breath. "Sorry, just," he sighed. "No, it's really not very bad. You have a distal radius fracture, but the bones aren't horribly displaced. It's actually a really common injury, and it shouldn't take more than a cast to get you good as new."

Kurt blinked and exhaled.

"A cast?"

"Well, a splint first." Blaine ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Look, what's going to happen is I'm going to put you in a splint for a few days. It gives your wrist time for the swelling to go down a bit before we set it in a cast. Then the cast stays on for two or three weeks, and you'd come in again to get it checked. The swelling should have gone down further by then and you'll need a new one to make sure everything heals properly."

Kurt frowned. "How long until this is all over? I need my hands to work, and I doubt I'll be landing any big-time theater roles with an arm covered in Plaster of Paris."

"Six weeks in a cast, Kurt." Blaine said. He paused when Kurt huffed and chin up rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "It's not all that bad."

"Not all that bad. Blaine, when I'm not hitting the stage I have to work two jobs to keep myself afloat in this city – barrista by day and bartender by night. Have you ever tried to properly shake martinis and pour drinks for multiple people with one hand? Shit."

"Well, you're not going to be doing any of that for the next two days at least. . ."

"I need to work, Blaine!" Kurt seethed.

"You need to rest, Kurt. While you're in the splint you need to be very careful with that wrist." Blaine said seriously. "Unless you really want to need surgery, you'll take care of yourself."

"I would cross my arms and glare at you if I didn't think it was going to hurt like hell to do so."

Chuckling and shaking his head, Blaine stepped towards the curtain.

"I need to get a few things and I'll be right back." Blaine smiled softly and Kurt's heart went molten at the sight.

"I'm going to take care of you, Kurt. Don't worry so much."

_Oh._

Kurt's cheeks turned an interesting shade of crimson at that.

He was glad that Blaine missed it.

* * *

><p>Blaine had to shake his head and pause to just breathe for a second after closing the curtain. To see Kurt again after all these years and to see him sitting in a hospital bed had thrown him for a loop. Thank goodness it wasn't anything serious.<p>

Hell, if it had been anything serious then he would _not_ have been able to take him as a patient. There was no way he would have been able to treat anything severe on Kurt freakin' Hummel with a clear head.

He'd have to remember to thank whoever was responsible for scheduling him with clinic duty today.

God, Kurt . . .

Blaine had stopped trying to fool himself into thinking he'd _ever_ see Kurt again. He knew he shouldn't have told Kurt about considering marrying Rick all those years ago – but if you couldn't go to your best friend for advice, who could you go to?

Probably not the best idea to be asking the best friend who was once your boyfriend, hell, your everything, for relationship advice.

Lesson learned. Lesson learned in the hardest, cruelest way possible.

When Kurt stopped answering his phone, Blaine realized that perhaps the idea of marrying Rick was a horrible one. Without Kurt in his life, Blaine had trouble feeling anything for anyone, really.

Rick must have felt the loss of interest on Blaine's part, and when it became apparent that Blaine was burying himself in schoolwork in order to avoid having to deal with any sort of relationship with anyone, Rick left him.

Blaine pushed a lot of people away in his college years, but the one he most regretted losing was Kurt. Blaine hadn't even shed a tear when Rick left, he'd simply asked Rick where he could mail any stray belongings after Rick had packed his bags.

And now . . . Blaine had forgotten he was capable of _feeling_ quite so much.

The second he'd laid eyes on Kurt sitting up in that bed, hand gingerly holding his black and blue wrist and looking briefly like he'd seen a ghost, Blaine just wanted to run up and squeeze him.

The past fourteen years had flown by while they were happening – it was all study, work, sleep. Now looking back, Blaine truly realized just how much he'd been on autopilot the whole time. Sure, he had a lot to show for his effort those years – his paycheck was nothing to sneeze at, he was in the process of house hunting, and the cherry-red Porche siting in the employee parking lot was stunning – but god, how empty his life was.

There was one hell of a hole in his perfect painting, and it was shaped a lot like Kurt Hummel.

Blaine shook his head to clear it.

"Dr. Anderson, you look like a kicked puppy. Are you alright? Patient giving you trouble?" Diane said from Blaine's left and Blaine chuckled.

"No, surprisingly enough. No trouble at all." he smiled. "He's going to need a splint and to be scheduled for a followup for a cast." He paused. "I'll do it, just call my extension and my secretary should be able to fit him in somewhere. Print him out care directions for a fractured radius, and I'll sign off a script for three days of Tylenol 3. Oh, and he needs a three day work release as well."

"Alright, not a problem." Diane nodded. "Also, the girl's father in room 8 has asked about his daughter's ankle. . ."

"Not broken, but severely sprained. I'll be with her as soon as I take care of this splint. Is she comfortable?"

"Should be good for another hour and a half." Diane said and Blaine nodded.

"Awesome. This will take me ten to fifteen minutes, tops. Let her know I'll be there shortly."

* * *

><p>"Oh no, that color will not bode well for my wardrobe this season. . ." Kurt said upon Blaine's re-entry, eying the beige wrap with disdain. Blaine shrugged.<p>

"You'll get to choose the color of your cast, these splints are a one shade fits all deal."

"One shade _never_ fits all, I'll have you know." Kurt replied, rolling his eyes. "And how customizable are these casts, anyway?"

"As long as you don't get it wet or damage it, you can do what you like with it."

"So, say I were to take my bedazzler to it -" Blaine chuckled.

"Just don't do anything that will compromise the integrity of it, Kurt, and it should be fine. And don't go burning yourself with glue guns."

"I _never_ foul up that badly while bedazzling, Blaine. I'm a pro. From trinket boxes to bird caskets, I can do it all. Lots of practice."

Blaine stilled.

_Bird caskets. . ._

"You're blushing, Blaine." Kurt said matter-of-factly. "What did I say?"

Blaine coughed and turned his head away from Kurt's inquisitive gaze.

"Bird caskets."

Kurt blinked.

Oh.

_There you are, I've been looking for you forever . . ._

_We should practice. . ._

Oops.

"Let me see your hand." Kurt blushed.

"Sorry, what?"

"The splint, dummy. Your arm isn't going to wrap itself."

Oh.

Slowly and with the slightest hesitation, Kurt held his arm out and Blaine gently took it, placing it carefully onto the splint and began wrapping.

Kurt had to force his sharp intake of breath to a more steady inhale, goosebumps raising unbidden at the touch.

Blaine had the look of utmost concentration, his lips pulled in and brow furrowed as he wrapped, and Kurt could do nothing but stare and try to calm his steadily increasing heart rate.

When Blaine was done with the procedure, he nodded, then took one of Kurt's fingertips between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed lightly.

Kurt's eyes widened and he gasped, and Blaine smiled.

"Feel that?"

Heart hammering in his chest, Kurt blinked in surprise.

"_What?"_ breathless, Kurt asked and Blaine raised his head to look Kurt directly in the eyes, then squeezed another finger.

"Do you feel that?" Blaine asked again, and when Kurt didn't respond with anything other than a slackened jaw, Blaine had to think for a second over what he had done wrong.

_The touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets. . ._

Oh.

_Oh._

"Um, sometimes the fingers go numb with a fracture like this, and um, I . . ." Blushing furiously, Blaine continued. "I just wanted to make sure you could feel your fingers."

"Y-yeah." Kurt cleared his throat. "Definitely felt that." Kurt looked down for a moment, then up again. "Blaine, I. . ."

Blaine was already standing up and heading for the curtain.

"I, um, I have to get to another patient." Blaine said abruptly, shooting out words in a frazzled pace. "Diane will be in with your release paperwork very soon, and um, yeah. I gotta go." He gripped the curtain.

"Blaine!" turning his head slightly to see Kurt out of the corner of his eye, Kurt clutching the sheets with his good hand, Blaine waited.

"It was." Kurt began. "It was a pleasure having you help me out today."

Blaine bit his lip, his eyes stinging.

"I'll see you in a few days, Kurt." he smirked. "Give some thought to what color you want that cast, alright?"

Kurt opened his mouth to retort, but when he looked up at the exit, Blaine was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** I Know The Pieces Fit (2/?)  
><strong>Rating (overall):<strong> PG-13 thus far  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Everything, to be safe.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Serendipity  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>6360  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Future!Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Flangst – heavy angst to start this chapter, but there are some smiles towards the end. Title taken from the song Schism by Tool. Also, being familiar with Fiona Apple's 'Slow Like Honey' enhances this chapter exponentially.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Drifting apart is easy; communication is hard. Breaks are tough; mending is sweet.

_I know the pieces fit cause I watched them tumble down  
>No fault, none to blame it doesn't mean I don't desire to<br>Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over  
>To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication<em>

Doctor Blaine Anderson was a workaholic.

During his college years it got him through his days, had him at the top of his classes – had him sitting in front of a computer or a book while others would be going out and living their young lives. Once he had achieved his MD – around the same time he had lost contact with Kurt – he'd gotten a position at Memorial Hospital while continuing his education toward surgeon. His sleep schedule was staggered; his social life was non-existent.

Hell, the social event of his last fourteen years had been his father's funeral.

A week before Blaine was handed his final degree – one hour, maybe two, after finishing his final hour in a classroom, Blaine's father's drinking habit finally caught up with him.

Blaine had seriously considered not attending the funeral.

His father had never been an emotionally supportive man. He never accepted Blaine for who he was or what he wanted out of life – even going so far as to thwart Blaine's dreams of going to school in New York with Kurt.

It was disgusting what money, blackmail, and cunning could do.

Most of Blaine's applications never even saw the colleges they were addressed to. His father simply didn't mail them, but said he did. The ones that Blaine had mailed himself – the big ones, Columbia and Cornell – Blaine's father had used a combination of bribery and lies to keep Blaine out.

All because he refused to see the heir to his name in any school other than his alma mater, or, even worse in his eyes – at one of those schools, soiling his family name with _rebellious homosexual deviancy_'.

But Blaine's mother needed him there. She begged him, and Blaine's resolve broke.

He couldn't believe his family situation had gotten to the point where his own mother had to beg him to go to his father's funeral. Blaine promised he'd be there, and made sure to take extra special care to reassure his mother that he would always be there for her – she countered with pleading for him to get out more, to live his life, to _not become his father_.

At the funeral, she handed him a phone number written neatly on heavy parchment, and tilted her son's face to meet her eyes with one hand, folding his hand over the note with the other.

"You were never very good at making real friends, Blaine. The ones you had though, they were good ones." she sighed. "Mr. Montgomery called with his condolences as well as extending congratulations to you." She paused. "You were offered a position in New York?" Blaine's eyes widened in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't even know how he knew, Mom. I only got the call from the hospital right before the flight here."

She smiled. "Oh, well, Mr. Montgomery is on the board of directors, so he would know these things. Which actually gets me to my point." a breath. "You remember Wes, right? His son?"

"Of course I remember Wes, Mom. We were friends for years. He was on the Warbler's counsel."

"Oh, I do miss those days." she said sadly. "Your voice was just lovely – do you even sing anymore?"

Blaine winced. Another thing that had fallen by the wayside in his life.

"In the car, sometimes, but Mom – I know your mind's a little bit of everywhere today, but what were you saying about Wes?"

"Sorry, sorry hunny. Sidetracked again. Well, Wes has an apartment in Manhattan and he just got laid off, poor dear. I think it might be a good idea for you to reconnect with some old familiar friends, and well, he could use the help." She smirked. "Though, I suggest if you do this, you have Wes believe it's a favor to you – he's a proud man, after all."

"Mom, I don't know if Wes and I would be able to stand being roommates." Blaine began arguing, but stopped when his mother gave him a look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Uh oh.

"You're making excuses, Blaine. I really think you need this." She paused. "Do you even have any friends? Could you call someone right now, just to talk, or watch a football game with, or whatever it is that you enjoy doing with a friend?" She bit her lip. "Do you? Because I think you're lonely, Blaine, and that's no way to live."

Blaine called Wes that night.

* * *

><p>Today, Blaine couldn't get himself home fast enough.<p>

Well, wasn't this a change? Usually he'd put in ten, sometimes twelve hour days without thinking twice about it.

The sudden realization – he had no life outside of his career – was probably thanks to his heart getting a defibrillator sized shock earlier in the day.

Kurt just _did_ that to him – shook him to his core, slapped him in the face, reconfigured his entire life.

It really only took one look.

Since the day, hell – the _moment_ – Blaine Anderson met Kurt Hummel, it only took one look.

Of course, it had taken _forever_ for Blaine to realize just what that meeting truly meant, but the connection was always there.

It was a connection Blaine had thought had ended with Kurt's communication cut-off.

More than that, it was a connection Blaine _himself_ had tried to sever in an act of self preservation.

No one person should hold that much power over another.

It was turning the key in the door to Wes' apartment and walking into it that made yet another epiphany hit him.

His life was not just lonely, it was _empty_. It was empty of special things, mundane things, things that made him _feel_.

Nearly everything in the small two bedroom dwelling belonged to Wes. Blaine had been living so long as a solely studious hard working college student that most of his life could fit into a few suitcases – work clothes, a few suits, his computer, his iPod, old textbooks – none of the the furniture was his. None of the linens, none of the décor was placed by him. Short of the box in the closet which contained a few yearbooks, a photo album, and the boutonniere from prom that he just couldn't bring himself to throw away – there was nothing of Blaine in there.

Anything that resembled him ever having any sort of personality was in a box collecting dust in a closet.

In a _fucking closet._

How ironic.

Blaine stood in the entryway with a deer-in-the-headlights look, his keyring dangling off his finger – his mind teasing him with an annoying 'look at your life; look at your choices' mantra that might have been funny if it wasn't so depressing.

He just stayed there until Wes, who had been sitting on the couch reading, noticed him and closed his book with an audible 'snap'.

"Blaine, what in the world -" Wes checked his watch. "It's only eight o'clock."

Blaine didn't answer, but propelled himself into action, opening a cupboard to pull out a short glass and a bottle of Scotch.

Wes' eyes widened. "You never drink." he said flatly, and when Blaine still didn't respond, Wes grabbed the neck of the bottle and looked to his friend, surprise and concern creeping into his features at Blaine's red-eyed despondent appearance.

Blaine sighed.

"Wes, why didn't you ever tell me how empty I was making my life?" Wes' looked at Blaine, aghast, and Blaine tugged the bottle out of Wes' grip, pouring himself a small amount – barely a finger – and drinking it in one go. "Seriously. I've got this great career, whoo hoo, but nothing to show for it. Hell, you know I've been house hunting, but I have _nothing_ to put into it when I get it." Pouring himself another drink and ignoring Wes' look, Blaine continued. "I mean, most people have that piece of furniture that belonged to their grandmother, or those boxes of framed pictures, or hell – random, pointless junk that means absolutely _nothing _to anyone but them. You know, stuff that tells a story. Stuff that clutters up a place, old papers from school, a love letter from someone you can't remember the last name of anymore. I'm 33 years old Wes, and my memories fit into a fifteen by fifteen inch fucking cardboard _box._" Again drinking down his beverage too quickly, and this time slamming the glass down on the counter top, Blaine hung his head and just stared blankly, jaw clenched and trembling.

"Blaine." Wes said steadily, concerned. "What happened? What brought this all on? Not that I'm not glad you're realizing you need to live your life and not just work though it, but this-" Wes gestured to the alcohol and to Blaine himself. "This isn't you, at all. Not the kid I went to high school with, or the guy I've known in adulthood. I haven't even seen you touch liquor since your father died." Wes frowned. "You're a wreck, Blaine."

Blaine sighed.

"Kurt came into the ER this afternoon."

Wes froze. "My God. Blaine, is he alright?"

Blaine blinked out of his gaze, and looked to Wes apologetically.

"Yeah. God that came out harsher than I should have said it. He just broke his wrist. But, Wes, it was – well, it was _Kurt_ – you know?"

Wes breathed out his relief and nodded. Oh, he knew alright. Blaine had always had a way about him with internally negating his feelings until they exploded. Hell, he was doing it right now.

"What got to me, Wes, I mean what really got to me," Blaine paused and shook his head. "There was so little awkwardness. I mean, I saw the file, scared the shit out of myself when I saw his name, and worried all the way to his examination room – but when I actually got in there, he was just _Kurt._ We just bantered back and forth like we used to, like no time had passed between us at all. There were a few moments where I had to remember the whole doctor-patient protocol, but other than those," Blaine bit his lip.

"God Wes, I just had no idea how much I missed him. And now it's like, a million times worse because I got to see him again after all these years, and now I just want more time." Sighing, Blaine fidgeted with turning his glass in circles. "I have to wait two days, and it might as well be another 14 years."

Wes actually chuckled.

"One, you sound like a melodramatic teenager. And two, why two days?"

Blaine smiled.

"One, shut up. And two, I'm setting his cast for him. He didn't complain about me doing it, so unless I piss him off and he finds another doctor, he'll be in my life for at least the next six weeks."

"You're diabolical, Doctor Anderson." Chuckling, Blaine relaxed his shoulders.

"It's not like that, Wes. It's just that it's_ Kurt_, and I just," he paused. "I need to do this for him. It's second nature to want to take care of him. I don't know. Maybe it's my old teenage mentality coming back and wanting to take him under my wing. Protect him and all."

Wes scoffed. "You're still in love with him Blaine. Don't fool yourself."

"I'm not. Fooling myself, I mean. I don't think I've ever stopped loving Kurt." Blaine furrowed his brow. "But 'in love' with him still? I don't know. People change. I know I have." he sighed. "What I do know for sure is that Kurt is a big part of what's missing in my life, and whatever part Kurt wants to play in that life – I'll take it."

"If you're just going to sit back and hope Kurt decides to stay in contact, or push to keep you around, I think you're going to be disappointed." Wes said quietly and Blaine regarded him in confusion.

"What makes you say that?"

"Just," Wes sighed. "I don't know Blaine, do you really think the guy is going to want to put himself back out there when it comes to you? I mean, I really think you hurt him back then, what with you calling him and casually mentioning wanting to marry that Rick guy. You think you would have learned about yourself and those over-the-top things you say and do with crushes."

"Are you talking about the Gap Attack? Because this was nothing like what happened with Jeremiah. I was actually dating Rick."

Wes stared at Blaine incredulously. "Blaine. Listen to yourself. You were _dating_ Rick. Dating. Your Roommate. You weren't even at the boyfriend stage, and you were talking to _Kurt _of all people about marrying this new guy." he paused. "Kurt didn't know the guy was your roommate. He had no idea that you were just having one of your overzealous moments. I mean honestly Blaine, you talk about how Rick 'left you' like someone talks about a lover leaving, and was he even that?"

"One time."

Wes threw his hands up in the air.

"You are infuriating, Blaine Warbler."

"I haven't been 'Blaine Warbler' in a very long time, Wes." Wes just stared.

"Not the point. Actually, that's something I've been meaning to address with you for a while, but now is not the time. Don't change the subject, Blaine."

"And just what are you really trying to get at, Wes?"

"That you are quite possibly the most dense person I've ever met. No, scratch that, my real point is that you _suck_ at dating and relationships. When it's important, you're too careful, and when it's not you go absolutely _insane_ and try to go way too fast. You broke up with Kurt because you were afraid of ruining what you had with him with a long distance relationship. Then you talk about marriage with a guy you're barely dating, and don't truly love. Then you lose touch with Kurt and turn into this robotic working and studying machine. Damn it Blaine, this is the first time since I've met back up with you that you've even shown real emotion."

"I have emotions!"

"You have masks, Blaine." Blaine opened his mouth to speak and Wes cut him off. "No, really. I mean everyone has them, but you abuse them. You did it in high school, too. I mean, if you want me to be _really_ honest with you, Blaine, I don't think I met the real you until Kurt transferred to Dalton."

Blaine frowned. "Seriously?"

"Kurt broke you out of your shell – at least for the way you carried yourself off stage. You were always more yourself when you were performing, which I found ironic in retrospect. Most people act on stages, but on stage was the only time you'd drop your facade and be yourself."

Wes sighed, watching Blaine lean up against the counter looking up to the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on his features.

"I. . ." Wes began, and Blaine faced him, brow furrowed and curious. "I really miss Blaine Warbler."

Blaine's face fell. Then he laughed a bit.

"Did I tell you I got a verbal warning today for jumping up on a counter and dancing on it to cheer up a patient?" Wes' breathed out a chuckle and shook his head.

"The trick is Blaine, for you to be doing that kind of thing again spur of the moment because _you_ want to. Not because you're trying to improve someone else's mood with it, but because it makes _you _happy. I mean, you used to just barge right in to practice and start singing – and you were proud of what you did and who you were. That's the you I'd love to see again."

Blaine smiled in memory, and Wes internally cheered – perhaps he was getting through somehow.

"That's the guy who has a chance with getting Kurt's attention, you know." Wes said and Blaine raised an eyebrow. "You need to get out of the house and do something you enjoy, rather than just do what you have to do to make a living. You don't even know the name of the bar on the corner right now. When's the last time you picked up one of those magazines you always used to have your nose in? You need to reevaluate your life."

"Basically bring back my inner child and have a chat with it?" Blaine said disbelievingly and Wes shook his head.

"No, more like having a chat with your inner Warbler." Wes swiped his house keys and wallet off the counter and grabbed Blaine by the arm. "Come on, I'm taking you out for Karaoke at that 'bar on the corner' you don't know about." Blaine's eyes widened.

"I haven't sung in public for-"

"Blaine, it's karaoke, not competition. Besides, you must miss it, deep down. You used to love it so much -"

"You are so lucky you're trying this after I've had a couple shots already."

Wes just smiled.

* * *

><p>"So, Wes, tell me. How is it that you got all social fun guy when you got older, and I became all hermit hobbit?"<p>

Wes spat rum and coke across the table and grabbed his stomach laughing.

"I'm -" Wes gasped through his overenthusiastic laughter. "I'm not, Blaine. I've loosened up a little but, ya know. Alcohol doesn't hurt either."

"Last time I sang I was drunk too – office Christmas party." Blaine smiled. "R'memeber that night I didn't come home and told you I had a work function? They spiked the punch, and I'm a dumbass." Wes cocked an eyebrow. "One minute I was all like, _damn_ this is good fucking punch, and the next I completely destroyed Katy's _E.T._ – _Bad. _I said something about anal probing, bad."

Wes choked.

"And here I thought you never went out."

Blaine laughed. "I don't, Wes, it was literally right after my shift in the hotel next door, and Diane – told you about her, she's the crazy nurse – she just dragged me to it. Ended up having to get a room – I was so trashed."

"So you _can_ still be social."

Blaine laughed, hard.

"No, man, no. That wasn't social. That was just awkward pent up Warbler aggression. Like, I got so sick I almost checked myself in at the ER. I got all pissed at myself later, because I started thinking of my dad and getting all depressed, and then I was like, well one night out doesn't make me like him, all alcoholic and an asshole and a life-ruiner and shit and _damn_ I'm _rambling_!" Blaine singsonged, and Wes patted him on the shoulder.

"You are definitely _not_ your father, Blaine." Wes said and Blaine sighed.

"Man, Wes, my Dad. . . he was such a _jerk._ Like if he ever accepted anything I ever did with my life, I would have had a heart attack. _Seriously._ But man, let's stop talking about him, it's such a downer. I need to sing something, like something crazy. That guy up there right now is just _terrible_. Oh my God. Wes, I'm going to do Elvis. I would rock Elvis. I'm gonna fucking do Elvis."

"Blaine -" Wes smiled, and Blaine grinned ear to ear.

"Elvis, man." Blaine said, nodding enthusiastically. "Elvis."

"You are so drunk."

"Shut up."

Blaine turned to talk to the disk jockey – he and Wes were at the table adjacent – then he thought 'better' of it and just grabbed the mic.

"Fuck it, man, I can do this shit A Capella in my _sleep_!" he exclaimed, and -

_You ain't nothin' but a hound dog – cryin' all the time . . ._

In pure Elvis fashion, Blaine spent the song making a complete beautiful mess out of his performance – leaning in and out with the microphone stand, gyrating, and just plain completely charming everyone in the room.

Then it was over, wolf-whistles and cat calls resounding throughout, a few standing and cheering, a few drunkenly toasting their beer mugs in Blaine's direction,

And one shocked, red-faced man with a broken wrist – poking his head out of the backroom of the bar, trying ever so hard to breathe.

* * *

><p>"Kurt, sweetie, are you alright?"<p>

Kurt jumped slightly at the question from his boss, a pretty brunette with startling violet eyes – contacts, Kurt was sure – before trying to appear nonchalant. Nodding and clearing his throat, he approached her, handing her a copy of the form given to him at the hospital.

"Fine, Amanda. Just a little surprised by that last performance."

Amanda smiled. "He's a looker, isn't he? I haven't seen him in here before, but he knows how to bring down a house." She laughed. "I've already had six or so of our regulars bitch and complain that you weren't working tonight – they do love hearing you sing on karaoke nights. Hopefully that guy appeased them a bit."

Kurt raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and huffed indignantly.

"Please, Amanda. My wrist may be broken but my voice is just as flawless as ever." Kurt smiled. "I'm not one to be upstaged without a fight. Especially not in _my _bar."

"It's _my _bar, sweetie."

"Where the drinks and the rent and the managerial responsibilities are concerned, absolutely." Kurt said with a coy grin. "But the customers, they come here for _me._"

"Diva."

"You know it." Kurt smirked. "Go drop the DJ a line and get him ready. I may not be getting paid tonight, but I have no qualms about giving you one on the house. I assume we have enough of the regular crew for me to get away with the sexy number?"

Amanda grinned. "I'll get your headset, sweetheart."

* * *

><p>"So how many phone numbers do you have now?" Wes asked Blaine with a drawl, and Blaine smirked.<p>

"Six. All women, unfortunately. Want 'em?"

"No way." Wes paused. "Actually, which one was the blonde? She was pretty hot."

"Pretty trashy, more like it." laughing, Wes grabbed one of the slips of paper Blaine had been folding into tiny paper airplanes.

"Hey, I like what I like. When I'm drunk anyway. Tomorrow I'll probably throw it out, but tonight – yeah, that one's going in my pocket."

Blaine smiled, and Wes punched him amicably in the arm.

Then Wes paused, his arm still in mid-retraction. The room had gone quiet, and Wes swore under his breath.

"Blaine, I thought Kurt wasn't supposed to be working for a few days?"

Blinking through his current haze and utterly confused, Blaine looked to Wes and spoke nothing more than an unintelligent, "Huh?"

Piano music swelled, a high, throaty voice broke through the sudden silence, and Blaine dropped his airplanes.

"_You moved like honey. . .In my dream last night"_

"Wha-" Blaine began. "What the _fuck_?" he squeaked.

_This_ was the bar Kurt worked at?

He was going to _kill_ Wes!

"_Yeah, some old fires were burning." _

Blaine stared, slack-jawed, at the back of the bar where Kurt had stepped out – wearing a goddamned gorgeous well tailored suit and rhinestone bedazzled sling.

"_You came near to me," _ Kurt sang to a random patron, _"and you endeared to me"_ Blaine hoped he was random anyway. Kurt pushed the man away gently, smiling coyly. _"But you couldn't quite discern me"_

"_Does that scare you?" _Kurt asked the bartender, gliding a finger slowly across the bar. _"I'll let you run away." _The bartender blew Kurt a kiss, smiling affectionately. _"But your heart will not oblige you" _Kurt winked, grinning.

"_You'll remember me," _Kurt held his hand out flat, palm up, gesturing to everyone listening. _"like a melody." _he crooned, then switched his tone to determined. _"Yeah, I'll haunt the world inside you!"_

"_And my big secret, gonna win you over – slow like honey, heavy with mood."_

Sliding up beside a rather attractive man, Kurt loosened his tie slightly. _"I'll let you see me," _Across the room, Blaine slammed down a double shot. _"I'll covet your regard" _Kurt spun into the man's line of vision. _"I'll invade your demeanor" _

When Blaine saw the lecherous smile on Mr. Stupid Adonis, he nearly jumped out of his seat.

Kurt just continued, _"And you'll yield to me" _he sang, then turned around, wafting his hand loosely in the air. _ "like a scent in the breeze" _Grinning over his shoulder and then walking away with sinfully swaying hips, he teased - _"And you'll wonder what it is. . . about me."_

"_It's my big secret – Keeping you coming" _Kurt winked. _"Slow like honey, heavy with mood"_

The tone of Kurt's performance changed then, and as he let out a haunting run of notes, Blaine felt his heart constrict.

"_Though dreams can be deceiving" _Kurt stood stock still, eyes emoting. _"Like faces are to hearts." "They serve for sweet relieving" _Blaine's eyes closed,

"_When fantasy" _clutched his hand to his chest.

"_And reality" _opened his eyes

"_lie" _breathed.

"_too far apart." _choked on his breath.

That was the moment that Kurt's gaze met Blaine's.

"_So I stretch myself across like a bridge"_ Kurt closed the distance between them, and grabbed Blaine carefully by the back of the neck._ "And I pull you" _Blaine didn't resist the slight tug, leaning towards Kurt, eyes saucer wide._"to the edge"_

"_And stay there waiting" _Kurt settled into Blaine's lap, shifting his hand to cup Blaine's cheek. _"Trying to attain" _Shifting forward, Kurt sang in Blaine's ear._"The end to satisfy the story" _Blaine shuddered involuntarily.

Kurt pulled back. _"Shall I release you?" _Instinctively, Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt's waist.

Blaine provided the next line._ "Must I release you?" _Kurt's eyes widened in shock, and as he got up off of Blaine's lap, Blaine got up with him, snatching the mic off the DJ's table beside him.

"_As I rise to meet my glory!" _Kurt sang. Blaine flicked his microphone on.

"_But my big secret - Gonna hover over your life" _Blaine continued, grabbing Kurt's hand and swinging him out. _"Gonna keep you reaching" _Blaine pulled Kurt back in, holding him from behind, their hands still entwined.

"_When I'm gone like yesterday. . ." _Kurt belted ruefully, smirking back at Blaine.

Blaine stumbled a bit drunkenly on his feet and continued. _"When I'm high like heaven. . ."_

"_When I'm strong like music" _Kurt grinned widely, and Blaine turned Kurt to face him, eyes glassy with emotion.

"_Cause I'm slow like honey," _They harmonized. _"and heavy with mood."_

The bar absolutely erupted with cheers, and Blaine positively beamed at Kurt – then placed a hand on the small of his back. "Buy you a drink?" Blaine asked.

Kurt's eyes glittered, his face flushed, and he nodded, letting Blaine guide him to his table where Wes was sitting, arms crossed, a highly amused look on his face. When Blaine pulled out Kurt's chair for him, Kurt rolled his eyes affectionately.

"Ever the gentleman, Blaine." he said. Blaine nodded with a smirk, then went to grab Kurt his apple-tini. "Wes." addressed Kurt. "It's been a while."

Wes smiled. "Truly amazing performance, Kurt. I feel privileged to have again seen your talent before Broadway scoops you up and hides you away." Kurt chuckled.

"It's going to be a few weeks at least – I'm not about to make my major-role Broadway debut with my wrist the way it is, so you may just get another opportunity."

Blaine placed Kurt's drink on the table and hopped back into his seat. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"That was quick."

"Apparently they know you pretty well in here – it was already made when I walked up."

"More like stumbled." Wes quipped dryly. "I'm surprised there's anything left in that glass."

"Shut up, man. I've cut myself off, m'not touching another drop tonight. Can't remember the last time I was this hammered."

Kurt smirked and hummed a few bars of _Don't You Want _Me, his feigned innocent look spoiled by mischievous eyes.

Blaine blanched and looked to Kurt incredulously.

"Mr. Hummel, I thought we were going to forget that ever happened." Blaine leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"I never agreed to such a thing, Mr. Anderson."

"Doctor Anderson, Mr. Hummel."

"Oh, so you want to play doctor, do you?" Blaine's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. Wes decided it was time for him to sneak away from the conversation. Kurt waved a small farewell, then turned his attention back to Blaine. "That's a rather interesting shade of red, Doctor. You sure you don't have a fever?"

"Kurt – I" Blaine stuttered, and Kurt decided to take pity on him.

"Blaine, it was a joke." he smiled. "Though I'm quite flattered you would turn that shade from the prospect of 'playing doctor' with me, I would never just hop into bed with you on a whim."

Blaine's face formed a comical look of confusion. "I don't know whether to be pleased or offended."

Kurt laughed and rolled his eyes. "Blaine. You're drunk, you're gorgeous, and regardless of the asinine amount of time it's been since we've seen or talked to each other, I will always care about you." Kurt sighed. "All funny business and innuendo aside, Blaine – We're getting a second chance at whatever we are to each other right now – I'm not about to push anything too fast."

"I've missed you." Blaine blurted, and Kurt shrugged.

"Of course you did. I'm amazing." Kurt smirked and polished off his martini. "I missed you, too." he admitted, then laughed.

"So what ever happened to that Rick guy?"

Blaine choked, and blushed in embarrassment.

"He was," Blaine smiled sheepishly. "He was another Jeremiah," Kurt's eyebrow raised judgmentally. "Well, Jeremiah plus a drunken night and a roommate situation, but yeah."

"Please tell me you weren't going to marry him for a discount at Wal-Mart, Blaine."

"No." Blaine laughed, shook his head, and then said more firmly, "No."

Kurt snickered. Blaine leaned forward, arms folded on the table, and grinned. "So how about you, Kurt? Anyone special?"

"My little black book is surprisingly empty as of late." Kurt said quietly.

A drink was placed in front of Kurt. Walking away was the handsome man from earlier – he winked, made a 'call me' motion, and Kurt blew him a kiss.

Blaine smirked through a wave of jealousy. "Who was that?"

"A friend." Kurt smiled. "He's usually the guy I spend my Friday nights with."

Blaine regarded him curiously. "Oh really?"

"Not like that, Blaine. He's a co-worker. The drink came from boss-lady Amanda, actually." Kurt smiled, taking a sip. "It's one of her running jokes – if you'll notice, there's one of those tacky fly-in-an-ice-cube blocks in it. She has a stash of them just for her amusement and my annoyance." Kurt shrugged.

"Interesting." he paused. "But why the flirting, then?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Danny's been trying to get into my pants for over a year. He knows I'm not interested – I had to bitch-slap him just last month – but I like to tease him sometimes."

"So what's wrong with him?" Blaine asked.

"Everything." Kurt shrugged. "I mean, yeah he looks good on the outside, but he's an overconfident, dimwitted man-whore – totally not my type." Kurt sipped at his drink and continued. "Not that _anyone_ is my type lately – I've kind of given up, to be honest. The men in this city have this whole 'use them and lose them' mentality, and I just can't rock that. I'm much too good for that."

"No argument there, Kurt." Blaine said, and began tearing up a napkin, thinking. "You know, not _everyone _here is like that though. Wes isn't." Kurt snorted. Blaine continued.

"I'm not."

Kurt smiled sadly, stirring his drink, forcing himself to not comment on the small pile of shredded napkin accumulating on the table.

"I know." Kurt said quietly. "I guess I've just fooled myself into thinking that romance and love is dead so I can feel a little better about being such an old bachelor."

Blaine smiled ruefully. "Better than becoming a lonely old hermit like me."

"At least you _have_ a career, Blaine. I still haven't really 'made it' – I'm struggling to get by, hell, I don't even have health insurance. . ."

Blaine's eyes widened. "Wait, _what?_" he exclaimed, and Kurt jumped slightly.

"I work in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop and a bar, Blaine. Not exactly jobs with the best of benefits." Kurt shrugged. "I don't get sick very often, you know how much of a health nut I am, so it's not a problem most of the time."

"Yeah, Kurt, but what about right now? God, just that ER bill." Blaine ran his hand through is hair, wincing at the tug. "You had an x-ray too, and . . ." Blaine looked to Kurt abruptly. "Please tell me you filled your prescription."

Kurt bit his lip. Kurt _never_ bit his lips.

Blaine stared at him for a minute. "Do you have the script on you?" Kurt nodded and pulled the sheet of paper from his pocket, confused as to why Blaine wanted it, but glad it'd become caught in the paperwork he'd handed to Amanda earlier. Blaine took it, then pulled out his cell phone.

"Blaine, what are you doing?"

Blaine held up his pointer finger, gesturing Kurt to hold his questions, then talked quickly to the person he'd called.

When he'd finished, Blaine ripped the script to shreds and dropped them into the napkin pile. He sighed.

"I just called that in to the 24 hour pharmacy across the street. It'll be ready in twenty minutes." Blaine shifted and pulled out his wallet, offering Kurt a few bills. "Get your medicine, Kurt."

"Blaine, I can't just take your money. Be serious."

"Oh, I'm serious. If you think I'm going to sit back and do nothing when I can help you, you're out of your mind." Blaine took a breath, calmed the irritation in his voice, and pleaded. "Please take it, Kurt."

"The regular Tylenol is good enough, Blaine"

"Good enough for _you_ is pain _free_, Kurt. I know my medications, and I'm betting the regular stuff isn't cutting it."

Kurt huffed, then saw the concern in Blaine's eyes and melted slightly. "Fine." Kurt said and took the offered bills, "but I'm paying you back someday." he paused. "Thank you."

Blaine nodded.

"Not to start an argument, Kurt, but your money is no good in my office."

Kurt gaped. "That is _so_ not necessary, Blaine."

"I think it is. Look," Blaine said. "I told you I'd take care of you and that you didn't need to worry. If you end up struggling over paying your bills because of this, then I'm not keeping my promise. I don't know how much I can do about the ER bill, but at least I can help you with this."

Kurt blinked back tears. "You were always too good to me, Blaine."

Blaine smiled sadly and rose from his seat, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "It went both ways." his smile brightened. "I'd like to think it still does."

Kurt gave a watery chuckle. "You look like you're about to head out for the night, getting up and talking like that."

"Well, you have an appointment with the pharmacist, and I have to find Wes before he forgets he's a gentleman." Blaine joked.

Shifting on their feet, neither quite knew how to end the night.

"Blaine Warbler, you'd better at least give me a hug before you go – my pride needs some comfort." Shaking his head in amusement, Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's middle and held tight. Kurt returned the gesture with one arm, cursing his sling and his inability to hug Blaine properly.

They both held on a little too long, basking in the familiarity of the gesture – the warmth, the feel, the scent of each other – until finally they pulled away. Blaine raised his hand to cup Kurt's cheek and Kurt leaned into it, closed eyed and smiling.

When Kurt opened his eyes, Blaine grinned. "I'll see you in a few days." Blaine said, then smiled impossibly wider. "Wow, it's just _great_ to be able to say _that_ again."

"Yeah." Kurt breathed. "It most certainly is."


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** I Know The Pieces Fit (3/?)  
><strong>Rating (overall):<strong> PG-13 thus far  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Everything, to be safe.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Serendipity  
><strong>Word Count: 3504<strong>  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Future!Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Flangst. Shorter than usual, but I think you'll like the end. More of that next chapter.

ALSO – Thank you to everyone who's reviewed/commented so far. My internet access is horrible right now, so I haven't had the opportunity to thank you individually. Thank you all. You're awesome!  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Drifting apart is easy; communication is hard. Breaks are tough; mending is sweet.

* * *

><p><em>The poetry that comes from the squaring off between,<br>And the circling is worth it  
>Finding beauty in the dissonance<em>

"What is _with_ you today?"

Blaine paused and opened the door he'd been peeking out of, then shrugged. "Don't know what you're talking about, Julia." he smiled. "So, what does the best secretary ever have on my agenda for the rest of this fine afternoon?"

Julia leveled a disbelieving, fondly critical look. "You're hiding something, Doctor Anderson. Something good. You're acting weird. Talking weird. And I haven't ever seen you this jumpy. Or twitchy. And poking your nose in on the waiting room like this? Doesn't happen."

Blaine grinned.

Julia looked at him like she'd never seen him before. "Seriously. You're kind of creeping me out."

"Maybe I'll explain. For now though, how many more?"

Julia rolled her eyes. "Fine. Four. All pretty tame. Two consultations for surgery and two casts, an ulna and a radius." She smirked. "So, looks like barring any emergency rush of shattered bones, you've got a pretty boring end to your day here."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you. Today's anything but boring, Jules." Julia raised an eyebrow quizzically at the nickname and Blaine continued. "Though that reminds me, the patient with the fractured radius isn't getting a bill."

Julia scrunched her face up in confused disbelief. "Um, _what?_"

Blaine had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Did I stutter? Hummel, Kurt. No charge."

"Alright Doc, what's going on?" she paused.

"Wait, wait. Don't tell me." she sighed.

"Okay, tell me, because my theories are offensive and could get me fired."

"How about he's an old friend with a broken wrist and no insurance and I'm helping him out." Julia laughed.

"No way." she said jovially. "You don't have friends. Except that uptight Asian guy, and his name isn't Kurt." Blaine crossed his arms and tried to keep the smirk off his face. He had mentioned Kurt to her at one point – one rather important point, actually – and had been pretty sure she would make the connection. Especially since . . . "Wait, wait. Oh my god, wait. Is this that cutie from your prom picture?"

Blaine smiled. "That's the one."

Smirking, Julia elbowed him lightly in the side. "The one I teased you relentlessly about for over a _week_ for still carrying around a picture from _high school_ in your _wallet_?"

Blaine sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Julia."

She smiled, mischief lighting in her eyes. "Is it still in there?"

Scowling, Blaine reached for the examination area's door. "I'm not answering that."

"Oh my God, it _is_, isn't it?" She clapped her hands together and giggled. "That is too cute!"

Blaine blushed scarlet. "Just send the next patient in."

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't know what to make of Blaine's secretary. As soon as he'd walked in the door, her head had shot up in attention. Biting her lip and grinning, she bounced in her seat like some invisible person was tickling her ribs while holding her down.<p>

With far too much cheer she shouted, "Hello! I'm Julia!"

Kurt jumped a few steps back.

"Kurt Hummel." He said. "I, uh, have an appointment?" Julia grinned.

"Yeah ya do!" she singsonged, winked, and shuffled manically through the paperwork on her desk.

Kurt took a cautious step forward when she quickly shoved a few sheets of paper towards him. What was this woman _on?_

"Here's a few forms for you to fill out, and Dr. Anderson will be with you as soon as possible."

Kurt took the paperwork with a nod and sat himself a bit farther away from the intake desk than was strictly necessary. He heard the click of a phone being taken of its base, but couldn't make out what Julia was saying on the line.

Somehow he figured he probably didn't want to know.

He was seriously starting to think that everyone who worked around Blaine was absolutely insane. Then again, he'd be lying to himself if being around Blaine didn't make him slightly off kilter as well.

A door opened and closed and Kurt looked up in curiosity. It was a rather attractive man, probably in his late twenties, sporting the most garish bright orange _thing_ on his arm that Kurt had ever seen. Kurt stared at the cast with a look of abject horror as the man talked briefly to Julia, received an appointment card, and walked out.

Kurt jumped nearly out of his skin when he heard a whisper in his ear.

"I tried to talk him out of it."

The hair on the back of his neck sticking up, Kurt turned abruptly to see Blaine smiling affectionately over his shoulder.

Kurt swallowed.

"Y-you obviously didn't try hard _enough._ God, Blaine, tell me there's something more neutral colored than _that_ atrocity!"

Blaine grinned. "I have a hot pink one."

"So, what are my amputation options? Because no, Blaine. Just no." Blaine chuckled.

"No amputation options for you, Kurt. Sorry." Glancing at Julia who was quite obviously struggling to hold her tongue, Blaine sighed. "Julia didn't give you any trouble, did she?"

Kurt stood and walked over to Julia's desk and handed her his paperwork. "No, she was just very excited to see me for some reason." Julia choked out a laugh and Blaine smiled.

"Just happy to have another thing to tease Dr. Anderson about, Mr. Hummel. That's all." She grinned mischievously as she skimmed the documents. "By the way, Doc, his phone number is-"

Blaine's eyes went wide.

"_Julia!_"

Kurt snickered. "You know Blaine, if you wanted my number, you could have just asked. No need to be a creeper."

"I- I wasn't, I didn't, I – Julia, really? _Really?_"

Kurt rolled his eyes in amusement, then grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper off of Julia's desk. Making short work of jotting down his name and number, Kurt tucked it into Blaine's lab-coat chest pocket, patting it lightly. "There." Kurt said. "Problem solved."

Blaine just stood there for a moment, staring at Kurt, then shook himself out of his daze. "Uh, yeah." he swallowed. "Awesome. I mean – thanks."

"Don't hurt yourself, Blaine." Kurt smirked. "On second thought, you're a dork; give that back." Kurt said with a smile, reaching back for Blaine's pocket – Blaine quickly slapped his hand over it, catching Kurt's fingers inside.

"No." Blaine breathed and Kurt gasped.

Well that was unexpected.

And wonderful.

And Kurt's heart might have melted a bit from it.

Kurt wanted to say something, anything – then he was reminded where he was.

Julia squealed. "Awwww!"

Eyes widened and hands dropped. Blaine shot Julia a look as she fluttered her eyelashes in mock innocence. Then he cleared his throat.

"We, uh, we should get that cast taken care of."

Kurt blinked a few times, then nodded.

"Yeah. Right. The cast." he smiled. "I think black would be my best option. Go for versatility."

Blaine nodded. "I can do that." he turned to Julia. "You've done enough for one day. Kurt's my last patient, so shoo."

Julia smiled evilly. "Should I call someone to change the linens?"

"Should I call the temp agency for a new secretary?"

Spinning on her heel and gathering her things, Julia skipped to the exit. "T_ouché_." she grinned. "Bye, Doc. Mr. Hummel."

Blaine sighed. "See you tomorrow, Julia."

* * *

><p>"So this is where the magic happens."<p>

Watching Blaine move around the room, Kurt couldn't help feel a bit of pride and awe for his friend. It was nothing short of amazing when Kurt really took it all in.

Before, it hadn't really hit him – maybe he'd been in shock. Actually, Kurt was pretty sure that claiming shock after a day like that wouldn't be so farfetched.

But, wow.

Blaine was a _doctor_.

The boy he used to sing and dance with, the boy he'd studied with and talked with and had coffee dates with, the boy he'd kissed and held and danced with at his prom – was a _doctor._

"Okay." Blaine broke Kurt out of his rumination. "First, I need to take an x-ray to make sure everything is still the way it was on Friday."

"There's not much the same from when I woke up on Friday, Blaine." Blaine chuckled and shook his head.

"No," he smiled warmly. "No, there's not. But I'm talking about your wrist right now, not our lives."

Kurt nodded. "I know. I was just having a moment." Smiling softly, Kurt motioned with his good hand for Blaine to continue. After returning the smile, Blaine did.

"So, first the x-ray. I'm going to suspend your arm from this stand here, and use that bulky oversized contraption over there to check where we're at." Though he wasn't quite sure he completely understood, Kurt nodded. "This may be a little uncomfortable, Kurt. If I'm hurting you _at all,_ tell me, alright?"

"Okay."

"Awesome." Blaine said. "Alright, so these," he held up a few cylindrical objects that looked a bit like rubber thimbles on string. "I'm going to put on your fingertips, and they're going to basically help to hang your arm from the stand." Taking Kurt's hand, Blaine placed the objects onto Kurt's fingers, tugging to make sure they didn't slip out before suspending Kurt's arm. "Okay. Now here's where things might get uncomfortable. There's this five pound weight I have to use on the arm. It keeps things nice and straight while I get the x-ray. I'll do it as fast as I can, but you might get a bit sore. Anything more than a little bit sore, tell me."

"I'm not going to break from a little weight, Blaine."

"You're already broken, and I refuse to hurt you any more."

_Oh. _

Kurt's heart did a little flip. Blaine really had to stop saying things like that.

"So, anyway, yeah. The weight." As soon as Blaine had gotten the weight taken care of, he wheeled the large crooked C shaped machine over and placed Kurt's arm for the scan. "Okay, hold still, and keep your eyes away from the machine." he paused and Kurt heard the machine whirring. "Awesome, you're doing great. I just need to reposition it a little for a different view. Great. Done." After Blaine had pulled off the weight and released Kurt's fingers from the stand, Kurt sighed in relief. Blaine had been right; it was uncomfortable.

"Okay so, yeah, it's not any worse than it was."

"Can I see it?" Blaine smiled and pushed the heavy machinery out of the way to give Kurt a better view of the screen.

"See, that's your radius right there." he said, pointing to the larger bone. "And that's the fracture there, a little below your carpals. Best part is that there's no fragments or any displacement – basically if you're going to break your wrist, you did it right."

"I'm assuming you've seen a lot worse then this." Blaine nodded.

"A lot worse, physically. And there are some patients I've had that just broke my heart – the ones that weren't accidents, but were done maliciously." Sighing, Blaine got out of his seat and started opening drawers and pulling things out.

"Actually, for example – and Julia told me I could tell you this, so don't get on me about doctor/patient confidentiality." Kurt smirked and nodded. "So, About three months ago, Julia called me at home crying her eyes out." Blaine paused. "Her son had been attacked at school."

"That's horrible."

"Yeah, that's not all. He's 14, and one of the bravest kids I've ever talked to – he's gay. Came out earlier in the school year. Proud." Blaine smiled sadly. "He reminded me of you, back when we first met, actually." Kurt raised an eyebrow and Blaine continued. "So I had rushed over to the hospital – she had asked me to, and I wasn't going to say no – and this kid's obviously upset. He's going off about how he wished he could have fought back harder or not cried so much, not let them know they'd hurt him. How he wished he just had someone who could understand, and Kurt, I couldn't help myself. Usually I don't get personal with my patients, but I just had to with this kid." Blaine sighed. "So I told him about how things were in high school with us – I told him about prom and how the kids at McKinley tried to humiliate you with that prom queen title." Blaine smiled. "He was so impressed with you, Kurt. I think it might have inspired him a little. I mean, that picture makes you look like you just completely owned the whole situation, and he -"

"Wait, picture? What picture?"

Blaine paused. "Our prom picture?" he said nervously. Kurt looked to Blaine questioningly while Blaine set on the table a pair of scissors, some gauze-like wrap, and what looked a bit like a fingerless glove.

"You just happened to have our prom picture on you? In the middle of an emergency room?"

"Yeah, um." Blaine shifted uneasily then pulled out his wallet, opening it and handing it to Kurt. "It's kind of never come out of there."

Kurt blinked. "This is that stainless steel microfiber wallet I got you for Christmas senior year." He stated matter-of-factly. Kurt hadn't noticed in the dark of the bar the other night, but this was definitely the same one. Kurt found it rather incredible that it'd lasted Blaine all these years – or that Blaine hadn't just replaced it.

"Picture's behind my ID." Blaine said quietly, and Kurt pulled it out with a small smile, his eyes stinging slightly.

"It's amazing." Kurt said softly. "How one of the most embarrassing moments of my high school life can make me smile now." he paused. "That it can help some kid dealing with some of the things I had to deal with back then." Kurt sighed. "And it's sad, too. That that kind of thing still happens after all this time has passed."

"It's gotten better." Blaine said.

"But it's not gone." Kurt said. "Just like racism isn't gone, and sexism isn't gone."

Blaine nodded. "I know. But better is good, too. There's always going to be room for improvement, but at least there's progress."

"Mmm." Kurt hummed in agreement, then turned his attention back to the picture in his hand. "So, why keep this picture in your wallet though, Blaine?"

Blaine smirked as he walked to the sink and blasted the water, washing his hands.

"It gives me courage."

Oh

Kurt's breath hitched and his eyes widened. "You're killing me," he muttered.

"You say something?" Blaine said, turning off the tap. Kurt just shook his head a bit sadly, placing the picture back into Blaine's wallet and handing it over. Putting it back in his pocket, Blaine sat down and reached for the scissors, going about removing the splint. Kurt silently watched for a few moments, then grimaced at the color of his arm underneath.

"Better." Blaine assured, then grabbed the fabric sleeve off the table. "The swelling's gone down. So, um, this sleeve here is going to go over your arm." As he slipped it on, Kurt smirked.

"I feel like I'm on the way to the opera." he said and Blaine chuckled.

"It does give that opera glove look, doesn't it? Okay, keep your arm and your fingers straight." Starting from a bit above the elbow and working his way up, Blaine carefully wrapped around Kurt's arm, pausing only to use scissors to make sure the fit around the thumb and forefinger was just so. "Okay, so now for the fun part." Blaine said, and again got up out of his seat.

"I hardly see this as fun, Blaine." Kurt groused and Blaine shrugged, blasting the water again.

"You said black, right? No second thoughts? I have lime green, too."

Kurt just shot him a bitchy stare. Blaine bit his lip through a laugh, put some gloves on, and tore open the packaging of the black cast wrap. After getting it sufficiently moistened, he squeezed out the excess, turned off the water, and headed back to Kurt.

"Okay, just stay still and don't bend anything." Much like the former wrap, Blaine worked the cast up around Kurt's arm, snipping where needed and then working his way back down.

"It's warm." Kurt said, and Blaine nodded.

"Yeah. It'll be like that for a minute or so." he replied, then brought both hands to Kurt's arm, squeezing slightly in some places and rubbing at the creases of the wrap. "Then it just gets really hard."

"That's what she said." Kurt quipped, and Blaine ducked his head down while he tried hide the flush in his cheeks.

"You're _impossible_." he said and looked back up. Kurt was smirking at him, lips pursed and eyes glittering in amusement. Blaine just sighed and distracted himself by making sure that all the creases were perfect and that everything was straight.

Admittedly, he was taking a little longer than he normally did with this sort of procedure.

Blaine had always been fond of finding excuses to spend more time with Kurt.

Finally, he sighed and released Kurt's arm, then pulled off his gloves.

"So that's it, then." Blaine said, slapping his hands on his knees and rising from his chair. "Just keep it dry, bag it when you shower, and I'll see you back here in three weeks."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, then hopped off the bed and sauntered to the door.

With his hand on the knob, he turned back to Blaine.

"And here I thought I should be treated to a nice scoop of non-fat frozen yogurt for being _such_ a good boy at the doctors today."

Blaine froze from where he had begun trying to distract himself by flipping through Kurt's file.

Was Kurt . . .?

"Kurt Hummel, are you asking me out on a date?"

"Absolutely not." Coyly smiling, Kurt replied. "I'm strongly suggesting that _you_ ask _me_." he grinned. "And insinuating that I'm _highly_ likely to accept your kind offer."

Shrugging off his lab-coat and hanging it on the stand next to him, Blaine slowly made his way over to Kurt and took his hand.

"Kurt, I." Blaine began, and at the tone Blaine used, Kurt's heart dropped, his cocky demeanor replaced with uncertainty. "I have clinic duty, so I can't really do anything this afternoon."

Frowning, Kurt tried to pull his hand away. "Oh. Well. I'm sorry if I misinterpreted anything, then."

"No!" Blaine exclaimed, slightly too loudly. "No." he stated more softly, and Kurt paused in mid tug. "Kurt, I would. I mean. Dammit." Frustrated, Blaine looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a moment.

"I can get out of there at seven. I will. Kurt, please have dinner with me tonight? You can pick whatever you want, it doesn't matter either way – just," Blaine smiled uncertainly. "Please?"

Kurt stood staring, tears prickling his eyes in pure, dumbfounded amazement.

"T-that would be wonderful." Blaine blinked in ecstatic surprise – why he was surprised, Kurt had no idea – and Kurt smiled. "Just um, call me when you get out of work, alright?"

"Y-yeah." Blaine stuttered, and then jumped to grab his lab-coat, reaching into the pockets to pull Kurt's number out of it. He then tapped the number into his cell, hit the call button, and Kurt's phone lit up. "So, um, now you've got mine." he said.

Kurt nodded. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Yeah." Blaine said softly. "Tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** I Know The Pieces Fit (4/?)  
><strong>Rating (overall):<strong> PG-13 thus far  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Everything, to be safe.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Serendipity  
><strong>Word Count: 7253<strong>  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Future!Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Flangst Title taken from the song Schism by Tool. This is a total seesaw chapter.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Drifting apart is easy; communication is hard. Breaks are tough; mending is sweet.

* * *

><p><em>There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away<br>Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting  
>I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing<br>Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication _

* * *

><p>Tonight.<p>

Kurt checked his watch upon exiting the subway and grimaced. It was barely 3:30. Give or take, that gave him about three and a half hours to figure out just what had come over him back in Blaine's office.

Kurt would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was jittery about tonight. This wasn't just some guy he could have picked up at the bar or had been set up with on a blind date. This was Blaine he was dealing with.

This wasn't 'just a date,' as much as Kurt wanted to tell himself it was. This was trying again, this was putting his heart on the line, this was feeding an old addiction that had been terribly painful to overcome.

Kurt was terrified.

Blaine had hurt him. Not in an act of cruelty, or through some fight, or act of infidelity – no, he'd hurt him by not being willing to _try._ It had been Blaine that had proposed that they go back to being just friends when they left each other for college. Kurt had tried to argue it, had tried his damnedest to convince Blaine that they'd be able to make it work – but Blaine had made up his mind.

Rather than continue the argument, rather than push Blaine completely away by having a crazy drag out fight about it, Kurt had given in. It wasn't his proudest moment.

Throughout the first year, Kurt just kept holding on to the hope that Blaine would change his mind and decide that they might be able to work out a long distance relationship, after all.

Then Blaine started dating people. When told of the first new boyfriend, Kurt felt a little piece of his heart chip away.

That relationship didn't last long – probably less than a year, and when the break up happened Kurt got his hopes up again.

It was a very short-lived hope. Blaine barely took a week before he was seeing someone again. Kurt expressed concern – through barely veiled jealousy – that Blaine was moving too quickly between people, but Blaine just laughed it off. He'd said he was enjoying having a bit of a life before his workload got too big, and that he wasn't all that serious about relationships he couldn't possibly maintain forever – that he couldn't possibly maintain for the next foreseeable months, if he was being completely honest.

Kurt had bitched him out for that. If Blaine was pretty much planning on having flings for the next however many years he was in school – and because of a time constraint due to courses and whatnot, well Kurt _really_ couldn't see what was wrong with the long distance relationship thing. It wouldn't be too hard to hop on a train once a month – they could make it work. Blaine still refused. He didn't want to tie Kurt down, and said that Kurt deserved someone better – someone who could be there every day for him.

That was when Kurt had accepted that Blaine wasn't going to change his mind, and that perhaps Kurt should start keeping his eye out for other people. Kurt's contact with Blaine got less and less – Kurt was sick of hearing about the people Blaine was dating. He understood that Blaine felt his education was more important than getting serious about other people, was glad for it in some ways, but hated the idea that Blaine just kind of threw himself around when he had a lull in his coursework.

Because, really, that time could have been better spent with _him_.

After two years being single, Kurt 'gave up' on Blaine in the potential rekindled romance sense. Blaine could just keep on wasting his time on meaningless relationships between classes; Kurt was done fooling himself.

Kurt had _one_ relationship after making that decision. It lasted six years. His name was Mark. He was easy on the eyes, charming, intelligent, and knew his way around the bedroom. It was a pleasant aspect of his life – they had fun, talked, took care of each other, held each other, all the things that people in a relationship would do.

There was only one problem. Try as he might, and maybe he was trying too hard – Kurt just never really fell in love with Mark. It was like living with a fantastic friend who he'd begin and end his day with, but once he left home, Mark left his mind until he got out of work and was heading back.

Most of the time that Kurt spent away from Mark, Kurt was focused on pushing back all the little things that would remind him that his relationship was a lie, while trying to ignore the thought that maybe he should call Blaine.

Kurt missed him. Blaine hadn't picked up his phone the last few times Kurt had called. Their conversations had gotten so few and far between the last few years, and each time, Blaine had sounded like he was forcing himself to be cheerful.

The second to last time Kurt had a real conversation with Blaine, Blaine was doing a _horrible_ job at acting like he was happy. Kurt wanted to ask him what was wrong, but the knowledge that Blaine was trying so hard to make it seem that everything was fine, stopped him.

Mark had come up in that conversation.

"So, you guys have been together for how long now?" Blaine had asked in what Kurt guessed was supposed to be a light tone, but the question came with a terribly put out undercurrent.

"Six years in June. Crazy, isn't it?" Kurt had kept his voice upbeat. "Definitely a record."

"Yeah." Blaine said. "That's like, three times as long as we were together." He sighed, and the pain in his voice made Kurt hold on to his phone a little tighter. "So." Blaine began. "So you must really love him, huh?"

Crap. Crap crap crap.

"Well, he's definitely been nice to have around." Kurt said finally, and before Blaine could say anything about Kurt avoiding the question, Kurt continued. "Blaine, I have to let you go – Mark's going to be home in fifteen minutes and I promised him dinner. Talk to you later, bye!"

Kurt had hung up so quickly, Blaine didn't even have a chance to interject.

Four months later, Blaine called Kurt gushing over thinking he wanted to marry Rick. Kurt had burst into tears the second the dial tone hit his ears. Of course, Mark had wanted to know what was wrong, and why he was so upset.

Kurt probably shouldn't have answered that question so honestly.

Crying inconsolably over Blaine's musings on marriage shouldn't have been done on Mark's shoulder. The conversation ended with Kurt watching Mark's heart break right before his eyes.

Needless to say, that was the end of that. Mark had said he'd suspected that Kurt didn't love him, but had kept trying because he'd loved Kurt. They broke up, and Kurt decided he wasn't going to call Blaine anymore. It was impossible to move on while being reminded of Blaine all the time, and it'd just deeply hurt someone who'd done nothing wrong but love Kurt Hummel.

And Kurt had moved on. Kind of. He'd dated here and there, but never anything serious. A few times he got drunk enough to do more than he would have cared to admit to himself in the morning, but other than that – nothing notable happened in the way of relationships.

He just tried to get his career off the ground, and had his small successes. Though not enough to make a solid living, he had enough under his belt to get his mediocre manager – he figured mediocre was better than not having one take interest at all.

Thinking of his idiot of a manager brought Kurt's mind back to present time, and very nearly got his mind on a subject other than second guessing and over-analyzing whatever was going on between him and Blaine.

Tonight was supposed to be 'just a date', after all.

Kurt hadn't quite lost his resolve to move on, yet. His mind and his heart were playing a bit of tug-o-war in the Blaine department. The heart might want what the heart wants, but it'd have to fight Kurt's memories of his heart's grieving process, first.

Kurt was _so_ confused. When he was around Blaine, he just wanted to stay around him. As soon as he got away though, the white noise in his brain lifted and he was reminded that the last 14 years happened, they happened without Blaine, and they'd hurt because it was Blaine who had chosen not to be there. Kurt may have stopped calling eight years in, but Blaine hadn't picked up the phone either.

If Blaine would have called, they probably would have saved each other a lot of confusion. If only Kurt had known that Blaine was just getting ahead of himself with Rick – that he hadn't actually gone and married the guy.

Kurt would have likely given in on his decision not to call Blaine if he'd not been terrified of hearing a Mr. Rick whatever-hyphen-Anderson answering the phone.

He just couldn't _deal_ with the idea of Blaine getting married to someone else.

And it was a selfish thing to feel. Kurt knew it. Kurt knew that he should just want Blaine to be happy no matter what, and all that crap about loving someone and letting them go – but, well, he just couldn't.

The only name that belonged hyphenated with Anderson was Hummel.

And _Oh._

He'd just really went there, hadn't he.

He really needed to get his mind off of this subject, and he needed to do it now.

Kurt sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket – three missed calls, two messages.

The first missed call was Blaine's from back in the office. Kurt saved the number to his contacts and forced himself to move on.

He was still waiting for whatever response he was going to get from his last audition, though his hopes were low. He really wanted that part, too. It was a new adaptation of Peter Pan, and he'd nailed it up til the point where 'kickboxing Wendy-wannabe' broke his wrist. Though that had been at the end of the audition, so it was still possible, he supposed. Barring heavy choreography, maybe he could pull it off if he was called back. His wrist wasn't going to be broken forever after all – he should probably talk to his doc-

Wait, no, not thinking about Blaine right now.

Moving on. The other two missed calls, and Kurt assumed the messages as well, were from the one and only

Rachel Berry.

Like it or not, Kurt had become accustomed to seeing that name on his cell phone now and again – Rachel had been here as long as Kurt had. They didn't cross paths everyday, but they kept in touch – especially when one of them had landed a role. Kurt figured that was probably the case this time, and hit his voice mail button.

"Kurt! _Kurt!_ Why aren't you answering your phone? I heard you got hurt auditioning for Peter – ran into your manager at the grocery store. Are you okay? Oh, I have another call, I'll try again in a bit."

Kurt sighed. He really needed to fire his manager. Such a big mouth.

_Message deleted, next message_

"_Kurt!_ I got _Wendy!_ I'm so, so excited! Oh, and also, I talked to the casting director, and apparently they're still on the fence with who they're casting for Peter, and he mentioned you, Kurt! He did! Oh wouldn't that be _amazing!_ I mean it's you or that big guy, and I mentioned that Peter Pan is just _not _that muscular, he's much more of a spry fluttery person, and he _agreed_ with me! So keep your phone _on!_ And oh, I hope you're okay. Call me!"

Kurt took his phone from his ear and stared at it. Then he shook his head, hit end, and fished out Rachel's number in the missed calls log.

"Kurt! I'm so glad you called! So, you need to tell me what happened at that audition, because the things I've been hearing – I've been calling around, I've been so worried, and I think that just made everyone else worried, and you should probably post a status update on Facebook or something because I think Mercedes is about to have a conniption fit and Finn's going crazy – probably because I called him after all these years and it was about you and getting hurt but Finn can just shove it because he married that Allyson girl and I married Broadway, and what was I saying?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Kurt smiled. "Though I think at one point it involved concern for my health."

"Yes! What happened?"

"I got kicked in the wrist. It's broken."

"That's horrible! And Kurt, I'm so sure you're going to get this role, too. Do you have a cast? Oh of course you do, that's what they do for broken bones. How long is it going to be on?"

"Six weeks total, though I could get a color change after three. And there's probably some recovery time when it comes off too – I have to talk to Bl- my doctor about it."

"Well they're still auditioning all the minor roles, plus production time and rehearsals, so it's going to be a while until the show actually goes on. You might just make it for getting the cast off, but yes, you definitely need to be cleared by a doctor first, you wouldn't want to re-break it or anything horrible like that. I know this great orthopedic surgeon with a sliding scale payment policy if-"

"I'm fine with my doctor, Rachel, and I highly doubt yours has better rates than mine."

"Are you sure? Because getting someone else to look at it is a good idea and-"

"Rachel, unless they're _paying me_ to wear their cast, this guy has them beat."

"Kurt! You can't just go to street corner clinics like that! Some of them haven't even been to college, and -"

"Are you serious? Never mind, of course you are. Rachel, I'm going to a legitimate doctor, alright? Your concern, while appreciated, is completely unnecessary – and borderline neurotic."

"I want names! No one does that kind of treatment for free unless you're on medicaid – Kurt, are you on medicaid? You didn't get get someone pregnant did you? Oh, wait, no, that wouldn't happen, would it? Kurt, what is going -"

Kurt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

"Ugh. Fine. It's Blaine. He's my doctor. The cat's out of the bag. Do _not_ go spreading this around, I'll update everyone tonight."

The line was silent for a few moments, and Kurt instinctively held his phone a good foot away from his ear.

Rachel let out an ear piercing squeal.

"Oh my God! Kurt! Blaine, Blaine? Like, Blaine Warbler, Blaine? Oh this is amazing! I haven't seen him in years! And you! Oh." she paused; her tone changed. "Oh, wait, Kurt. Oh, are you okay?"

"I've had less confusing days and weekends, but I'm managing. I have to let you go though Rachel, I have plans for tonight, and I have to call my manager – see if he's heard anything."

"Oh. Well, alright then. Text me if you hear anything, and please Kurt, be careful with your heart. He may be adorable and a great kisser, but -"

"Bye Rachel."

* * *

><p>Kurt found a message on his answering machine once he got home.<p>

"Kurt, it's Bruce. You got Peter. They're willing to work with your injury, but you need to discuss with your doctor what you can handle – have him write something up for you, they need a release for legal reasons before they can green-light you. Ha! Bet you're glad you didn't fire me, huh? Call me!"

Kurt stared at the machine for a moment, then replayed the message a few times to make sure he'd heard correctly. Then he went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and went back to replay it again.

He was almost surprised at the pitch of his squeal.

He would make this work. He _had _to make this work. It was finally happening. _Finally._

He had to tell Blaine. Now? No, he was going to see him in an hour or so, he could wait. It'd make for good dinner conversation.

Dinner! He needed to get ready, and what was he going to wear? And _wow_ had that phone call fried his brain – the adrenaline must have short circuited something somewhere.

His hands shaking, he tapped out a text message suggesting they go for something casual and low key.

Kurt was keyed up enough already.

The response came five minutes later –

_Casual's great, I don't think I can get a reservation on this short notice, anyway. Where should I pick you up?_

Kurt frowned a bit as he looked at the screen. That was a good question – did he really want to give his address this early on in whatever he and Blaine were doing? Then again, this was Blaine, not some complete stranger he'd met through a dating agency – not that Kurt had ever tried one of those. Well, maybe once.

Kurt decided he really had to stop over-thinking things, and sent Blaine his address, telling him to ring when he got there.

_Awesome, finished up a bit ahead of schedule, just need to head home and make myself presentable. Be there at 7:30ish. _

Glancing at his clock, Kurt's eyes went wide. Forty-five minutes was _not_ enough time! Especially since he needed to shower and _oh no._ The _cast._

Five minutes were spent finding a suitable bag to cover the damn thing. Ten were spent obsessing over making sure it was as waterproof as possible. Twenty minutes were spent having the most half-assed shower Kurt had ever taken – he was clean, but he'd been forced to skip the creams and moisturizers and had left out the repeat in rinse and repeat – all because of the godforsaken hunk of plaster on his stupid, stupid arm.

Kurt had just stepped out of the shower and thrown a towel around himself when the doorbell rang.

Blaine was early.

_Shit._

Running over to his buzzer and pushing the button, he tried to keep his voice calm.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah, it's -"

"I had some technical difficulties, I'm going to buzz you in. It's 12B, up two flights. I'll leave the door unlocked."

"Are you sure? I could wait outside."

"It's fine, so long as you don't break anything. I'm going to be a little while." Kurt paused. "Don't jump on my furniture."

"Funny."

Kurt pressed the door button and after hearing it click open and shut on the intercom, he _ran _to his bedroom and tore open his closet.

* * *

><p>Blaine took a breath to steady himself before opening the door to 12B, and was immediately glad he had – the dwelling screamed Kurt, from the careful placement of everything to the coordinated coloring to the – oh god, the pictures on the wall.<p>

They were all framed in various shapes and sizes, artistically placed in a waving pattern along the far wall, cut off by a bookshelf at one end and an entertainment center at the other. If the placement had thrown him for a loop, the contents of the frames pretty much blew him out of the room.

Various pictures of high school Kurt and the members of New Directions were down the first flowing column, but it was the second column that caught his eye first.

At the top was a candid of Kurt with Nick and Jeff hiding Wes' gavel in a hanging plant. Below was one with David elbowing Wes in the side while Kurt was helping Trent with a side-step. Right at eye level was a picture of Kurt and himself with their arms around each other, laughing at something Blaine wasn't sure he remembered.

There were just so many.

The next section was more of McKinley – Blaine noticed their prom picture right away – but in the fourth column, almost dead center, Blaine saw one that made his breath catch in his throat.

It was Kurt, sitting with his back against a tree with Blaine on his lap. Blaine's head was against Kurt's chest, his eyes closed and smiling serenely as Kurt toyed with his hair and looked at him with a level of affection that made Blaine just want to break down and cry. In front of them was a red and white checked picnic blanket, an open basket, and the crumbs from their lunch laying on empty plates.

Blaine just stared at it with his mouth hung open until he was startled by Kurt sliding up next to him.

"I love that picture." Kurt said, and for a minute, Blaine could only dumbly nod.

"Kurt, who even – who took that?" Kurt smiled.

"Tina, actually. She had been in the park taking pictures for her senior year art class and caught us in the moment. She'd actually lost the roll of film, but found it during a college break, developed it, and called me up gushing over it until I gave her my address so she could send it to me."

"It's amazing." Blaine exhaled, then turned to look at Kurt.

And just how did he do that breathing thing again? Because Blaine was having trouble remembering.

Kurt could definitely still work a pair of black skinny jeans. He also didn't seem to have any problems with accentuating every feature of his entire physical being – the black fitted short sleeve shirt clung in all the right places and its splashes of blue and green detail made his eyes pop stunningly.

Kurt just chuckled, then brought his fingertip to the bottom of Blaine's jaw and closed his mouth for him.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Blaine."

Blaine hardly thought his fitted jeans, black tee and leather jacket could be classified anywhere near Kurt's level at the moment, but he smiled anyway.

"So," Blaine cleared his throat. "Should we head out, or -"

"Oh, one minute, sorry – I have to do something on the computer real quick. Five minutes quick. Rachel made a mess and everyone's freaking out-" Kurt sat down at his desk, turned on the monitor, and navigated to Facebook. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill her."

Blaine blinked. "What, why?"

"My wall's full of people freaking out. Look." Blaine did, and did a double take at what he saw. It was full of questions about Kurt's well being, many mentions of 'heard you had an accident' and a few threatening bodily harm to who ever had 'beaten him up.'

Kurt sighed. "Hey, Blaine, do me a favor and smile at the camera for me." Blaine laughed.

"Why?"

"Because a picture is worth a thousand words."

Blaine shrugged, put his head on Kurt's shoulder, and smiled. Kurt took the picture, smirking with mischief, then typed out the caption:_ 'Broke my wrist. I'm fine. Ran into this guy and got a little distracted.' _

"Oh, I distract you, do I?" Blaine said, grinning coyly. Kurt shook his head.

"No, never. I just write stuff like that on Facebook because I _like _going through fifty notifications an hour. Seriously though, we should go before that happens – I'd kind of rather have dinner with you than sit in front of the explosion that's about to go down in my group of friends and family."

Blaine grinned. "Can't argue with that."

* * *

><p>They settled on a homey Italian restaurant. The establishment had enough of a resemblance to Breadstix to make the atmosphere mildly nostalgic – though the real reason Kurt had suggested it was because he remembered them having some of the best salads around.<p>

Kurt knew what he wanted, but pretended to look through the menu anyway. It gave him a bit of cover when he didn't want to get caught sneaking peeks at Blaine.

Suddenly Blaine chuckled. "Everything has garlic in it." he mumbled, then his head shot up like he hadn't meant to say that aloud.

Kurt just raised a single eyebrow and smirked behind his menu.

Despite everything that had happened that made him worry about just what he was doing and why he was doing it, when it came down to it -

This was nice. This was better than nice. It was like coming home. It was familiar, and warm, and comfortable.

There were some things about the past that he didn't mind reliving in the present – There were some things in the past that he never wanted to experience again.

But if he lived in fear of his past, how the hell was he going to enjoy his future, anyway?

Here he was, sitting across from Blaine – _Blaine_ – getting the opportunity to start over. Could he really let his fears and insecurities get in the way of an opportunity this big? This doesn't happen for everyone, Kurt realized. Not everyone got a second chance.

He was _lucky_.

On top of everything, there was also

"So I had the best message ever waiting for me at home earlier." Kurt said with a smile, and Blaine closed his menu to look at Kurt in curiosity. "That part I was auditioning for when I broke my wrist – I got it."

Kurt was expecting excitement on Blaine's face after the announcement – he certainly didn't expect to see Blaine's face pale and tinge slightly green.

"Kurt, you," Blaine said, grimacing. "You _can't._"

Kurt's jaw dropped, his cheer draining in one fell swoop.

He wasn't hearing this.

He was _not _hearing this!

"E-even after the cast comes off, you still have to be careful or – just catching yourself with that hand should you fall, that can break it again – and much worse than it is now." watching Kurt stare at him with watery eyes, Blaine felt sick.

Positively ill.

This was a dream he was shattering. This was _Kurt's_ dream. "It takes at _least_ three months for it to be alright to do anything that carries that risk. After the cast comes off, there's physical therapy and -"

"No." Kurt said quietly, followed by a much more firm "No! I'm not going to accept that, Blaine. No way. I can't just," Kurt barely squeaked out the words. "I can't just turn them down! This is a _lead, Blaine. _They said they'd work with me. God! You know what this means to me! And," clenching his hand around his water glass, Kurt's eyes went wide, then sadder still with realization.

"I need a doctor's release and you're _obviously_ not going to give that."

"I- I can't, Kurt."

"You can." Kurt hissed. "You just won't."

"It's both." Blaine said and continued with earnest. "I _won't_ put you at that risk because I _care_ about you and your future. You shatter your wrist, you're going to have a _hell_ of a lot of pain and a _hell _of a lot of trouble doing anything on stage – or anywhere else for that matter – for the _rest_ of your _life_." Blaine paused. "And I _can't_ because it's malpractice. I could lose everything I've worked so hard for all these years."

Kurt slammed his cloth napkin on the table in a fleeting urge to stand up and walk out. "If you'd worked nearly as hard on _us_ as you did getting your goddamned _degrees,_ then maybe I wouldn't feel like my life's been so completely _wasted_ by . . ."

Kurt didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't. It would have ended in 'loving you.' He'd already spat out a low blow – he didn't need to make it worse.

Blaine looked like he had been slapped.

God, how loaded that statement was – this wasn't just about Kurt's wrist, or the dream he saw attained and then shattered before his eyes. This was _years_ of pent up anger and regret on top of all of it.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." Blaine finally said. "I know I'm the bearer of bad news, and I _hate it._ I always wanted to be the one to encourage you to reach your dreams, and now I have to be the one to tell you no? This sucks!" Blaine exclaimed solemnly. "I just, I don't want you to get hurt, Kurt. I mean, if you want to go get a second opinion, that's great. Go for it. But my opinion, as a doctor and as someone who really, truly cares about you – immensely – is that you should turn them down."

Kurt grabbed the napkin back up again, then crumpled it up and squeezed it in frustration. Tentatively, Blaine reached across the table and gently put his hand over Kurt's fist.

Kurt looked at the hand over his, and his first reaction was to glare at it – but there was something in the gesture, maybe the warmth, perhaps the care, and possibly – probably – the man who was attached to that hand – that chipped away at the hurt and the anger of the whole situation.

Kurt paled and felt the fight leave him, anger and frustration melting into guilt.

Way to shoot the messenger, Hummel.

"Don't apologize for being a good friend or a good doctor." Kurt finally said. "I'm just so, _so disappointed._ I took it out on you. I wasn't being fair, I just – I did way too much thinking today, and I'm second guessing everything, and the _one _thing I thought went_ right _just got torn away_._"

Blaine paused and cracked a smile.

"Well, we _are_ still in the middle of our first date in fourteen years, and yeah, it hasn't started off all that well, but," Blaine shrugged.

"I'm still here."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly.

"I'd like to hope you consider _that_ as something going right."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, and Kurt's eyes got wider. "There will be other roles, and," Blaine full out grinned.

"Kurt, I want to be in your life when you're performing the lead of your dreams, when you're at 100 percent and bringing tears to people's eyes and just knocking them dead. I want to be the guy in the front row elbowing the lady next to me and saying 'That's my Kurt, isn't he something? Of course he's amazing, he's the best!'"

Kurt just stared, speechless, his heart doing awkward flip flops, his face regaining color at an embarrassing rate.

"My Kurt?" Kurt stuttered out, and Blaine nodded, a blush tinting his cheeks.

"I've always seen you as 'My Kurt' – whether you were 'My best friend Kurt', or 'My boyfriend Kurt', or 'My so. . ." Blaine trailed off and turned his head to the side, biting his lip and blushing furiously. "Um, wow, I'm getting carried away, huh? Where's that waitress? Said she'd get bread-sticks and just vanished -"

"Blaine."

"Man, and I'm out of water too, seriously -"

"Blaine!"

Blaine stopped his rambling and cautiously lifted his gaze back to Kurt. "Y-yeah?"

"You're a horrible tease, I'll have you know." Kurt paused. "Also, you _really_ don't have to censor yourself around me."

Blaine sighed, fidgeting with his empty water glass as he spoke.

"I just – I'm having a little trouble finding the happy medium between what we were back then, and how we felt back then – and what we're doing now. You know? I just – I'm," Biting his lip and releasing it, Blaine continued. "I'm scared of chasing you away. I know I get intense sometimes – I flirt too hard, I go way over the top, I get a little too tactile – I don't want to screw this up." Blaine frowned. "Again."

"I seem to recall not minding those things all too much." Kurt smiled. "Well, when they were directed at me, anyway."

"Yeah, but -"

"But nothing. I believe we already classified this as a date – and that entitles you to be flirty." Kurt laughed. "You're forgetting who you're dealing with, Blaine. I _know_ you, remember? I mean, some things change, but at your core – you're still the guy I knew in high school – just with more maturity and life experience and baggage."

The waitress, finally returning to drop their bread sticks on the table and to refill their glasses startled the two out of their conversation. She apologized profusely for the wait, took their orders, and left as quickly as she'd come – Kurt's bitch stare had struck again.

Kurt shook his head. "Sorry, the service here is usually a lot better than this. So where was I?"

"I've got baggage." Blaine said and Kurt's eyes lit up.

"I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine."

Blaine smiled. "Wow." Kurt looked at him questioningly. "It's been a while since I've been able to make a musical reference and have someone catch on like you can."

"It's RENT, Blaine. Anyone who wouldn't catch that reference would hardly be worthy of dating you."

Picking up a bread-stick, Blaine chuckled. "Well then, I guess you – eek!" Blaine yelped and dropped the food he'd been holding, an ant popping off of it and scurrying along the table.

Kurt's eyes went wide.

"Are. You. Kidding. Me." Kurt said in annoyance, and jumped out of his seat to approach the nearest waitress.

"I need to speak to your manager. _Now._" The woman's eyes widened and she nodded, then ran off in the direction of the back room. Blaine came up behind Kurt and placed his hand on his shoulder. As tense as he was, Kurt jumped at the unexpected contact.

"Whoa." Blaine said. "Hey, calm down, it's not that bad."

"Calm down? First they have us waiting for almost a half hour just to take our order, then they drop a basket of insect laden bread-sticks on our table, and you almost – and – ugh! This date is a disaster."

"Kurt." Kurt stood, fists clenched, waiting for the swinging backroom door to open again. "Hey, come on, look at me."

Kurt began to turn his gaze towards Blaine, but then the door swung open with a whiny squeak and Kurt's attention refocused towards the sound. The man who walked out – dark hair, dark eyes, tall, and unfairly handsome – had left the entryway scowling, but as soon as he'd seen Kurt, had stopped mid-stride and just gawked at him.

Blaine's brow furrowed and he turned to look back at Kurt, only to find that Kurt's expression was similar – anger drained away and pale faced with shock.

"Fuck my _life_." Kurt breathed out.

"Well, if it isn't New York's finest heart-breaker." The man said.

Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt shrugged off Blaine's hand and took a tentative step towards the other man. "Mark?" he squeaked out in disbelief, and in the moment it took for Blaine to stare at his brushed off hand and then back to Kurt, Kurt had been enveloped into Mark's arms.

"Oh my god, Kurt, it's been _years!_" Mark released his embrace and put his hands on the waist of a still very shocked Kurt, holding him at arms length. "How are you? How's your father? Jeez, what happened to your _arm?_" He turned to Blaine. "Who's _this_ guy?"

Kurt shook himself out of his daze at the question, then physically removed Mark's hand from his waist and stepped over to Blaine's side.

"This is Blaine, Mark." Mark's eyes shifted a bit in surprised recognition of the name, before becoming neutral again just as quickly. He extended his hand for Blaine to shake.

Blaine just looked at it, jaw set and eyes glaring. Kurt elbowed him in the side, hissing "What is _wrong_ with you?" low enough that only Blaine could have heard it.

Blaine begrudgingly shook Mark's hand, squeezing much tighter than was absolutely necessary. Mark raised an eyebrow in a way eerily similar to how Kurt tended to do, and Blaine's hackles rose even more – it was obviously something Mark had picked up from being near Kurt as often as he once was.

"So Kurt, Cindy came in here looking like the devil was at her heels and asked me to talk to an irate customer. What's wrong?"

Kurt blinked out of a curious look he'd been shooting at the interaction between Mark and Blaine and frowned.

"There was an ant in our bread-sticks, and the speed and poor quality of service frankly has me about a minute away from calling Mercedes."

Blaine looked at Kurt in confusion, and Mark's eyes widened.

"No need to bring heavy-hitting food critics into this, Kurt. You know what I do in restaurants like this – I assure you it's being addressed." Mark said.

Blaine frowned and interrupted. "Kurt, could you fill me in here? I think I'm out of the loop."

Kurt nodded. "Mark is one of those 'Hell's Kitchen' type chefs – when things go wrong in a restaurant, he gets called to initiate a bit of a 'boot camp' before someone gets a health inspector involved. Mercedes is a nationally recognized food critic, and way back when, she introduced us to each other." Turning back to Mark, Kurt sighed. "While it's a pleasure to run into you again, Mark – Blaine and I are going to be taking our business elsewhere, I think. I just can't stomach the idea of eating here if _you_ had to get involved."

Mark shrugged. "Fine by me, Kurt – I understand, totally." he smiled. "It was wonderful seeing you again, though I think your boyfriend may have broken my hand."

Blaine's head whipped itself up to look at Mark, then Kurt.

Kurt just smirked.

"Well if he did, I know a _great_ orthopedic surgeon."

Blaine choked midway between a laugh and surprised horror while Kurt suppressed a chuckle of his own.

"I think I'm missing something here." Mark said bemused, and Kurt smiled.

"Oh, you are." he said, then put his hand on the small of Blaine's back. "But it'd take too long to explain the joke. I'll see you around, Mark."

Kurt smiled a farewell and guided Blaine to follow him out the door, dropping his hand from Blaine's back only when they'd gotten themselves away from the entryway. As soon as there was a wall for Kurt to lean upon, he did, his back hitting brick and his breath exhaling in relief. Blaine just looked at him from his side, then bit his lip.

"I didn't break his hand, you know."

Kurt laughed, amused, and shook his head. "I know, Blaine."

Blaine sighed and leaned against the wall next to Kurt, looking up at the sky in thought. They both stood there for a few minutes, before Blaine broke the silence again.

"You didn't correct him when he called me your boyfriend." Blaine said matter-of-factly, and looked over at Kurt while he unconsciously held his breath.

Kurt blinked and pushed himself off the wall, turning to face Blaine with a soft, unsure smile and shaking hands.

"No, I didn't." Kurt said simply, then shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "Either way, it's none of his business. He can think whatever he wants."

"Ah." Blaine nodded, exhaling. "So, um, Kurt -" he began, and Kurt waited for a moment, taking in Blaine's nervousness and beginning to feel some of his own. "If I were to ask you -" Blaine grimaced. "Shit, I can't -"

Kurt sighed, shook his head, and closed the short distance between Blaine and himself, his casted arm around Blaine's back and the other hand cupping Blaine's cheek. Blaine's eyes went wide, and Kurt chuckled.

"You're impossible, Blaine Anderson." Kurt smiled affectionately and brushed his fingertips down Blaine's jawline, stopping at his chin.

"Kurt. . ."

Kurt just leaned in a bit, tilted Blaine's chin up to him, and stopped. Blaine closed his eyes, lips trembling – Kurt's just a hairsbreadth away. "Blaine?" Kurt whispered, his lips brushing Blaine's as he spoke. "Do you _want_ to be my boyfriend again?"

Blaine licked his lips to speak, but as close as they were, his tongue slipped across Kurt's mouth – and Kurt lost his control of the situation.

He kissed Blaine deeply, fiercely, his hand going to the back of Blaine's neck, digging into a fistful of curls, sighing as Blaine responded, just as eager, rising a bit on tiptoe to get whatever extra access he could.

And they would have continued on like that, if they'd not been startled by a blaring horn that sounded from the street, the driver shouting for them to 'Get a room, ya perverts!'

Blushing, but only slightly of embarrassment, Kurt tried to pull back from Blaine – but Blaine wasn't having it. He just held on tightly, his head buried in Kurt's shoulder, catching his breath. Kurt chuckled lightly, smoothing down the hair that he had mussed, and Blaine squeezed tighter, shaking slightly.

"Hey – Blaine. Are you okay?" Kurt paused. "You're not crying, are you? Oh my god, did I pull your hair too hard or something? I didn't hurt you did I?" Blaine choked out a laugh, and finally pulled away from Kurt, wiping at his eyes.

"I'm not hurt, just -" he sighed. "I'm a little overwhelmed, I guess."

"Ah." Kurt said in response, pausing to lick his lips before continuing. "So, was that a yes? Because I got a little carried away and I'm sorry if it was creepy or anything, but -"

Blaine laughed.

"Are you kidding me? That was in absolutely, never in a million years, no way _creepy_, Kurt. I'm so glad you – because I was totally chickening out – um, haha, I mean, yes, Kurt."

"Well, that barely made sense."

Blaine shook his head, smiled, and grabbed Kurt's hand.

"Yes, Kurt. I would be _honored_ to be your boyfriend again."

Kurt squealed.


End file.
